


Why It's Worse This Time

by Ace_Of_Spades_2014



Series: Why It's Worse This Time [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 10, Brotherly Love, Dean/Castiel - Freeform, Demon Dean, Destiel - Freeform, Eventual Smut, Falling Castiel, M/M, Mark of Cain, Repression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-08-15 07:46:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 56,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8048203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ace_Of_Spades_2014/pseuds/Ace_Of_Spades_2014
Summary: In the the midst of Dean battling with the effects of the mark, Sam and Cas comfort one another. As Sam tries to save his big brother, Castiel tries to comes to terms with his own desires, and possibly desires that will save Dean. (Suck at summaries. Sorry)





	1. Chapter 1

I do not own Supernatural

 

Because Sam and Cas had been getting closer, I believe in Season 9 and 10, but we still never got the extent of brotherly tenderness. 

 

************************************************************************************************************************

 

“Dean’s in the garage,” Sam immediately stated as soon as Cas appeared in the library of the bunker. The youngest Winchester had his face in a book, his shoulders hunched over, and his voice attempting to hide his exhaustion.

Because Dean was in fact the person Cas was looking for, the angel was about to turn around and start for the garage, but halfway in his turn, he stopped. There was something in Sam’s tone that made the angel think about why he would automatically assume his desire to visit the bunker was only for Dean’s company. After everything Cas and Sam had been through over the past years, especially recent months, why was it assumed that Cas would only care for the elder brother? 

It might have been because Cas was in the middle of his “mid-life crisis” as Dean had put it, rethinking everything he had done in life and wanting to do what he could to change, that he paused in his mission to see Dean. As much as he wanted to see how the oldest Winchester was, to observe the beautiful hunter and be reassured that he was alive and at least fighting against the Mark, Cas began to feel the need to take a moment to speak with the younger. 

“Thank you. I will visit him shortly.” Sam looked up from his book, surprised that he wouldn’t leave for the garage immediately. “How is everything with you?”

“Dean’s in a pretty bad shape,” Sam sighed, putting his book down. “He’s trying to act like everything’s normal, but he gets those moments of aggression, or worse, depression.”

“No,” Cas interrupted. “How is everything with  _ you _ ?”

The emphasis on you was an even further shock for Sam, who had never thought to hold the angel’s attention longer than what was required to keep a healthy relationship with Dean. “I'm fine.”

Cas gave him a stare that Sam was used to seeing him give Dean, one that said he knew he was lying and to stop his bullshit. The angel came closer and sat in a chair beside the hunter. 

Almost hesitantly, Sam began to tell the truth, if only to get the angel to stop looking at him like that. “Tired mostly. Exhausted actually. It's,” he paused, thinking. “I'm used to dealing with the end of the world.It's become almost normal.” He have a bitter laugh at the ridiculousness of the statement. “But it almost seems harder this time around.”

Cass nodded. He certainly understood. There was a part of him that felt the same. The world might not have been in any serious danger at the moment, but it still felt like one of their most difficult ordeals. The fate of the world wasn’t necessarily resting on their shoulders, but there was most definitely a burden upon them. A soul-crushing weight that refused to let up.

“It’s just,” Sam tried again, “I’ve always been able to rely on my brother. He’s always been the one saying that everything was going to be alright, and for the most part I believed him, because he almost always made everything alright.” 

That was the root of the problem. Dean. Sam and Cas had both caused more problems than they could ever hope to make up for in their lifetime. Even when they had thought they were doing good, many times it had resulted in disaster. And each of those times Dean had been there to try and warn them away from their wrong decisions, trying to be the voice of reason when they couldn’t see the truth themselves. He had always been (somewhat ironically) the strong, moral compass of Team Free Will. It was Dean who knew right from wrong, and knew what choices needed to be made to stay on the righteous path. Then, when Sam and Cas did mess up, it was usually Dean that picked them back up. He always made sure that their mess was cleaned up, and he was always there to help them do so.

True, Dean wasn’t always the easiest to be around during these times. It was during these times that Dean felt betrayed and beaten, but he always, in some manner, forgave them. With his gruff, rough-edges, harsh words, and stern demands, Dean was always there to help them pick up the pieces that they had broke.

It was Dean, they both believed, who was the true hero. 

“Because it’s Dean this time,” Cas affirmed when Sam seemed unable to say aloud what the difference was this time around. 

“Because it’s Dean.”

Dean had been the one to make the mistake. Not one of his small mistakes, or one of his minor sins, or even the mistakes he had made against his will down in Hell. This was a mistake that affected all those around him, and would eventually turn the righteous hero into the worst villain. 

Cas watched Sam as hazel eyes seemed to dim and lose focus, staring blankly at the table. Though in his thirties, he seemed so much a child then, lost without someone to guide him. It wasn’t a state Cas was used to witnessing on Winchester. The sight broke his heart. 

“You will get through this,” the angel stated as if it were the absolute truth. “You too are strong.” The focus in Sam’s eyes was still blurry and Cas wasn’t sure if what he was saying could be readily taken in. “It is not just your brother that has saved the world on countless occasions. It has been because of you as well that the world still lives on.”

Sam shook his head slowly, tears gathering at the edges of his eyes. “Only because of Dean.”

“That’s not true. It was your strength and moral standing that allowed you to overpower Lucifer and toss him into the Pit. It was your strength that kept you on your feet for months on end when Lucifer haunted your every waking moment, where as I couldn’t even last a second. It was by your power that allowed you to get so far into the trials and almost cure Crowley. No one could have gotten as far as you did without a sense of purity in their soul.”

It took awhile, but Cas’ words seemed to sink in. Whether he believe them or not, Sam at least appreciated the attempt at comfort. “Thanks Cas,” he practically whispered, smiling slightly.

“Of course.” He made to stand up.

He didn’t get far in his attempt to leave, though, before Sam stopped him. “The same goes for you,” the words were low, but they had meaning behind them. “You’re strength and everything you are isn’t measured by my brother.”

It was a strange declaration. On one hand, Cas knew the statement was true, that as a human, Dean had very little power in how the angel defined himself. However, the unfortunate truth was that Cas had found himself more and more doing things and saying things that he knew would align with how Dean worked. Though he still had his own thoughts and own power of will, much of what he did was because of Dean. Hell, most of the mistakes that the angel had made was because he had hoped to protect the hunter. 

“I know we don’t say it much,” Sam continued, “but we do appreciate you. You’re family. We’re brothers.” Cas smiled in a way that may have seemed insignificant to others, too small to make a fuss over, but meant everything to the Winchester because he knew those small, crooked smiles were the sincere ones.  Then, because this session had been a little too heartfelt, even for the youngest Winchester, Sam concluded with a well-meaning tease, “Well, you’re my brother. Something entirely different for Dean, I suspect.”

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

It a strange walk from the library to the garage after his talk with the youngest Winchester. He felt both comforted and saddened, though that may always be the case when speaking of such downhearted things. 

A part of him wondered if it was wrong to leave Sam alone after their heartfelt conversation. As much attention as both of them had been putting on Dean, after sharing the hardship on himself, it almost felt wrong to then get up and leave him behind. Especially, Cas thought warmly, after being told with confidence that the two of them were brothers.

On the other hand, Sam had also made it clear that their heartfelt conversation had come to an end. That sharing and caring had occurred, things had come out into the clear, and now they were to move on. For Cas, moving on meant checking on Dean.

Dean was, as Sam had said, in the garage working on the antique cars that had been left without owners, but had been gleefully accepted as wards by the hunter as soon as he had claimed the bunker as his home. He was bent over the engine, trying to fix something that Cas had no idea about. He had an old shirt on, the cotton worn, drenched in sweat. It was raised from him stretching, showing off muscled, if not slightly soft, back. 

Upon reaching the garage, the hunter was unaware of the angel’s presence, and Cas was not inclined to immediately announce his arrival. He knew that Dean would not necessarily approve of being watched while unaware, considering it to be “creepy”, but it was moments like this that Cas was able to see how Dean truly was. It was only alone, or when he thought he was alone, that the eldest Winchester allowed himself to reveal how much everything was affecting him. As soon as Sam or Cas, or any other person, came into view, Dean’s shields went right back up. 

It was one of the main reasons that Cas wished he could turn invisible still, remembering all the times he had been able to watch Dean privately without getting caught. That fact would probably creep Dean out even more, but Cas had never been able to deny himself the luxury of watching over his charge when his barriers were mostly down. This was especially true when Dean was sleeping. Cas had loved to watch Dean sleep, entranced not only by the way the hunter softened, or squirmed, or moaned, but also of the act of sleeping itself. What was more, by watching over him during those times, Cas had been able to occasional catch a glimpse of a horrish nightmare and send it away. 

Those were things that Cas could no longer do. Having been human, having regained a grace that wasn’t his, he ability was severely lacking. Simple things like taking pleasure in watching over Dean silently were now out of his reach. He didn’t even want to dwell on the larger aspects that were gone as well.

Frowning at his downward train of thought, Cas refocused his attention on Dean as he continued to work on the car’s engine. The fallen concentrated on the tense muscles, slightly relaxed at the moment because he was working on something he loved, but also with an underlying current of anger and restlessness. Stepping sideways just a bit, Cas viewed Dean’s profile from his side, able to get a glimpse of his face. Wrinkles were taunt near his eyes, displaying how tired he was in general. At times when Dean looked at him and Cas saw the faint lines crease his facial expression, the angel could almost imagine they were laugh lines, earned by joking too much and laughing too loud. The hard truth was never too far behind though; Dean was becoming worn and even though he tried not to act on it, the years of hunting non-stop, brutal beatings, and multiple apocalypses had taken their toll on him. 

It was more of a spiritual aging, Cas could see. Maybe before, right after Purgatory, the wearing out had been simply to getting physically older, but that was no longer the case. It couldn’t be. The Mark of Cain gave him more energy and power than he had ever had before.  Physically, Dean was once again in his prime. Spiritually, Dean was losing the will to fight. His soul was beginning to fade. When he had first seen Dean in the pits of Hell his soul had burned brighter than the sun, but now...not so much. There was a darkness that shadowed the light of his soul, a gloom that was everpresent. 

“You’re doing it again,” Dean’s gruff voice echoes from under the hood, low and husky. “Stop staring. It’s creepy.”

“I apologize,” but of course he wasn’t, and Dean knew that well. 

A moment later, Dean separated himself from the car the properly face the angel, his gaze softer than his tone had implied. “What do you want?” 

“I wanted to see how you were.”

“Fine.”

Cas frowned, always so tired of Dean’s lies. “No, you’re not.”

The blunt truth caused green eyes to narrow, but nothing could be said to deny it. Cas was right, as he usually was when it came to seeing the real Dean, the person that Dean himself tried so hard to hide. 

“Yea, well,” he scoffed, and Cas could sense the unease rolling off of the hunter. That unease always appeared when he was faced to admit something was wrong with him. It was a habit gained over thirty-something years of being a good soldier, a great big brother, and a strong hunter. It was a habit that Cas imagined would be his downfall, as it had occasionally been in the past. “Not really something I can do about it now.”

Again, Cas frowned, because this wasn’t like Dean at all. Dean, who might have had the tendency to say dark things and state the world was ending, never once allowed those sort of statements to actually overcome him. Whatever he might say, there was a strength behind the hopeless words that signaled he was not yet without hope entirely. And even if he was, he would continue to fight until there was nothing left. That was the real Dean; a fighter until the very Dean.

So it hurt Cas to the very core of his being to hear a hopeless statement said in a hopeless tone. It pained him to realize that Dean truly was giving up this time. Whatever they might have faced in the past, Dean’s lack of hope made it all worse this time. Because, if their fearless and optimistic leader couldn’t gather the energy to fight against the darkness anymore, what hope did Cas or Sam have to do so? 

“Would you like to get a drink?”


	3. Chapter 3

Cas stood in the dining room waiting for Dean to come back down so they could leave for the bar. The hunter had said needed to take a shower before they headed out, so the angel had been forced to stay downstairs impatiently until he returned. Sam was still in the library, nursing a beer slowly, and had already stated he wouldn’t be going with them, but wished them to have fun. Cas had thought about staying in the library as he waited for Dean, but Sam was reading studiously, and there was nothing the angel could do there that would entertain him either.

He paced as he waited, annoyed that such emotions like boredom and impatience were now a common occurrence of his being. Only a few years ago Cas would have been able to sit in a chair for hours on end doing absolutely nothing and he would have found nothing wrong with it. Now, however, any moment that he was doing nothing, was a moment that he couldn’t stand. He needed to be in action, or he needed to have the hunter around to keep hold of his attention, but he could no longer handle being alone and doing nothing. 

He figured it was because so much had occurred during those past few years. For one, being among the humans for so long had earned him the ability to sense what the humans sensed. What was more, having become human himself for a short time, had left a residue of human emotions nestled quietly inside of him. He could control those emotions much better than he had when he was truly human, but the fact remained that those emotions had stayed within in. In addition to the emotions that had changed him from the stoic angel he had once been to the almost human-like fallen angel he was now, he had done so many things that could easily consume his thoughts and drag him down into despair. Moments alone and with nothing to do were opportune moments for those terrible thoughts to come to the surface and destroy him. 

“Ready?” Dean finally arrived much to Cas’ relief. 

“Of course.”

The drive to the bar was silent as expected, but Cas didn’t mind the quiet now that the hunter was next to him. The angel was perfectly comfortable to simply be beside the hunter no matter the situation or atmosphere. There wasn’t even anything said anything when the impala was parked in front of the dive bar and they both got out. Dean took the lead, as he often did, and Cas followed closely behind, just a little too close to be considered appropriate from an outside perspective. 

“Two shots of whiskey,” Dean told the bombshell of a bartender without a flirtatious smile or wink, which Cas found unusual. 

“Of course handsome.”

As the bartender left to retrieve the alcohol, Dean stared at the table, his nails scratching into the wood. Cas frowned unabashedly at the hunter. He wanted to comfort his friend, but he couldn’t find the words. What could he say to a man cursed by Cain? Cursed to become a thing that he had been trained to hunt his entire life? 

“You’re doing it again,” Dean’s gruff voice broke through Cas’ thoughts, mildly amused with a hint of frustration. Cas tilted his head. “Staring.”

“I apologize.”

The pretty bartender came by to drop of the whiskey. She gave a small, coy smile Dean’s way, but Dean wasn’t paying attention to her. 

“Yea right. If you were sorry, you’d have stopped doing it by now.” 

“That is true.”

Dean tipped the shot of whiskey back in one go, and Cas imitated the action, only vaguely sensing the burn slide down his throat. “Another round!”  
“Dean,” Cas started, knowing the signs of the hunter’s downward spiral, once again attaching himself to his unhealthy coping mechanisms. 

The second round came quicker than the first, and Dean drowned it even faster than before. Before she even had a chance to leave their table, he was signaling for another round. She frowned, raising an eyebrow in Cas’ direction as if asking his permission to grant Dean’s request. Not understanding why he’d have the final say in the matter, Cas gave a small nod all the same, and she went hesitantly to retrieve the next round.

“You should slow down.” 

“Hey, you’re the one that offered we go to a bar.”

“I didn’t mean to imply that you should drink the entire bar.”

Dean barked out a laugh, almost sounding like his old self. It was a laugh of wry amusement with a slight bitter bite. “Well, look at you, with the exaggerations and personal experience.” Cas frowned, not entirely what was meant by that, and that frown seemed to have a sombering effect on the hunter. “Yea, okay,” he grumbled with his usual rumble and husk. “I’ll slow down, but if that’s the case, you’re drinking drink per drink with me.”

Honestly, that had been the original plan. The angel had been around Dean and other humans enough to by now that it was viewed as impolite to let a friend drink alone. It was one of the main reasons that Dean was constantly on Sam’s case while they were out celebrating a successful hunt, annoyed that his little brother would stop long before him. However, now that is was a clearly stated expectation, Cas wasn’t too sure about the wisdom behind it. 

What was Dean’s intention if his objective was to get Cas just as drunk as him? What would be the point of declaring such an action? It was possible, after all, that Dean, with the Mark of Cain would now have a higher tolerance than him with his limited borrowed grace. Had Dean come to this conclusion before him and desire to take advantage of that fact?

“Oh, come on Cas,” Dean groaned in frustration at his companions contemplative silence, “it’s not like you weren’t going to anyways.” It would seem as if the hunter knew the angel just as well as the angel thought he knew the hunter. “Let’s play some pool, huh?”

So they carried on through the night, going through bottles of beer and shots of whiskey at a much slower rate than when they had started. The two played a couple of casual rounds of pool, surprising Cas when the hunter turned down a willing opponent and the opportunity to hustle a fool. Much of the night was spent in silence with the exception of Dean’s occasional dry commentary. Despite the quiet between them, Cas felt like he had the hunter’s undivided attention more so than he ever did in a crowded bar. Because, as much as he wasn’t talking to Cas, it was a lot more than he was talking to anyone else. It almost seemed like the hunter was adamant about ignoring everyone except to order another round of alcohol. 

He even ignored the pretty women who made it obvious they found him rugged and handsome. This, above everything, worried Cas. Everything little thing Dean did that went against his nature, like flirting with beautiful women, made Cas uneasy. Not to say that he necessarily wanted Dean to do such things, but what he did want was for Dean to be himself. He had no desire for the hunter to change his ways, and especially didn’t them to change because of something as dark as the Mark.

“The bartender seems very interested in you,” Cas commented monotonously. With a brief side glance towards the girl, Dean gave a twitch of his lips and a shrug. “You are not interested in her?” 

“Man, since when do you care?” 

“I just thought she was pretty.”

This time Dean gave the bartender a more thorough glance, but turned his gaze unimpressively back to his friend. “Try asking for her number.”

“Why would I want her number?”

Exasperated, Dean replied, “So you can get to know her.” He rolled his eyes at the thought, making the obvious implication of what “getting to know her” would be. Cas was actually proud of himself for knowing what Dean was implying, happy to show that he had learned something else from the hunter, that he was getting better at understanding the nuances of the human language.

“I am not inclined to “get to know her”,” he made the quotation marks in the air, earning himself an eye roll and fond, crooked smile from Dean. “But I thought you would want to.”

This last statement turns the crooked smile into a concerning frown. “Well, I’m not interested.”

A pause. Then a blunt observation. “You seem to not be interested in anyone anymore.”

The hunter’s jaw sets stubbornly, his green eyes narrowed dangerously. Cas isn’t entirely sure what it is that he said that angered Dean, but he wanted to take it back now. Angry Dean had always been hard to deal with originally; with the Mark, he was ten times worse. “Not that that’s any of your business.” 

The coarse manner of his husky voice hit Cas’ nerves, and might have been the reason that he continued to speak with his train of thought. “I simply find it strange that you are not acting like yourself when it…”  
“Well, I’m not really myself anymore, am I?”

“What I meant was…”

“So you shouldn’t be surprised that I do things differently.”

“Dean…”

“Maybe I’m entirely interested in a whole new sort of fun,” Cas didn’t even want to think what that was meant to imply. 

“I apologize, I didn’t…”

“Yea, whatever, I’m leaving.”


	4. Chapter 4

Dean left. Without giving even a thought to the fact that he had been the one to drive both of them to the bar, Dean left, leaving Castiel behind to pay for the drinks and find a way home. The bartender had come up to him a short while after Dean had stormed off with concerned blue eyes. “Everything okay?”

“Yes. May I have another beer please? And then I will pay.” Cas had gotten into the habit of carrying a few bills around since having lost his wings, so at least he had the ability to pay for the drinks that he and Dean had consumed. 

“Sure honey.”

A part of Cas was rightfully angry. Mark or not, this was something Dean was known for; losing his temper and acting out no matter the consequences to those around him. It was just like Dean to be unable to internalize whatever emotion it was he was trying to hide from Cas and instead run off. Too consumed by his own turmoil, Dean had ignored the turmoil of the companion sitting right across from him.

The angel supposed he should be thankful that Dean hadn’t taken to his aggressive nature, and had simply left rather than hitting him. It wouldn’t have hurt physically (maybe), but it would have caused a scene, and Cas would have been hurt inside. 

A larger part of Cas was just sad. He had tried to helped, and had failed once again. Even the simplest things, like offering to go get a drink, were too much for Cas to be in charge of, and it seemed that he was doomed to forever keep making mistakes. He should have known that he was in no position to help Dean, not when the hunter was dealing with a problem far outside of Cas’ control. 

Internally, Cas gave a bitter laugh, something else he had gained from humanity. Everything was outside of Cas’ control now. It didn’t matter that he had gained another’s grace to replace his own, the fact remained that he wasn’t as strong as he was. He was limited and weak. Too influenced by humanity to ever again be the almighty angel he had once been. Yet he was too awkward and ignorant in human matters to be considered entirely human. Stuck in between, Cas was useless. He had come to that conclusion years ago, but he had yet to give into that knowledge completely.

_ Why should I continue like this though?  _ He wondered dryly as the bartender gently set down his last beer and laid out the check with care. Her eyes stayed on him briefly, worry flickering past before she sighed almost too softly to hear and left.  _ Why keep trying when I just get in the way?  _

And he was getting in the way, he realized. He was becoming a burden. He couldn’t fly to the brothers whenever he sensed them to be in danger. He couldn’t automatically help in a hunt when they needed an extra hand unless he was already right beside them (which was rare, actually). If they were hurt, he could heal them now, but it would drain him and then become utterly useless after that. And he couldn’t do this: take his friend out for a drink without saying something that caused the man to blow up and storm off.  

“For what it’s worth,” the bartender spoke beside him, collecting the empty bottle that Cas hadn’t even realized he’d drained so quickly, “I think you can do better.”

“Yes,”  Cas sighed, “I should have done better in speaking to him. I know how he is; I should have known how to treat the subject more...tactfully.”

She frowned, her forehead creasing. “No, I mean you can do better than him. You deserve better.” Cas squinted in confusion and disbelief at the woman’s sentiments. “You were so calm and patient with him. I can’t understand how he had any right to act that way towards you and just storm out of here.”

“He hasn’t really been himself lately.”

“That still doesn’t give him the right to treat you like crap.” Cas wanted to defend Dean, had always been too willingly to defend the righteous man, but the woman cut him off. “And you,” she stared at him sternly, “shouldn’t allow him to treat you like crap. Stand up for yourself.”

“To be fair,” Cas contemplated, “I have treated him like “crap” in the past too.” In fact, Cas had done worst than treat Dean negatively; he had completely beaten the “crap out of him” (as quotes by Dean himself). Though Dean could never be described as the sensitive type, in their relationship Cas had done far worse by Dean than anything the hunter had done so far. Cas had betrayed him, had beat him without restraint, had lied to him, had left him, had ignored him, and list goes on and on.

Suddenly all the anger left him. In its place was a human pain stabbing into his ribcage that he couldn’t define. He stood immediately, catching the bartender off guard. “Thank you for your service,” he handed her a hundred bill, a gracious tip that Dean would have thrown a fit over but wasn’t around to do so. 

He walked outside into the cold late evening, preparing himself for the long walk back to the bunker. A gruff scoff caught his attention before he could make any sort of progress past the parking lot, and Cas raised his eyes to see the hunter with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the polished impala. 

Unsure of himself and of the situation, Cas commented without emotion, “I thought you left.”

“I did,” came the honest reply. “Made it all the way to bunker before I remembered that you…didn’t have a ride.” The pause wasn’t much, but Cas knew exactly what he had meant. ‘Before I remembered that you didn’t have your wings anymore’. 

“Thank you for coming back,” Cas nodded slightly in gratitude and he continued walking. 

“Where are you going? Get in the car.”

“I think I will walk.”

“Dude, it’s a long walk.”

“I will be fine. Thank you for your concern.”

Cas wasn’t entirely sure why he was responding the way he was. Reasonably, he knew that he should just take Dean’s offer to get a ride back to the bunker, that he should be happy that the hunter didn’t truly abandon him. However, he couldn’t bring himself to accept so easily. Maybe it was his stand, to not be treated like crap despite what may be changing in Dean. Or maybe it was the need to have some time to himself to wallow in this indescribable pain. Whatever the reason was, it felt human to Cas and it wasn’t something he could ignore now that he had started. 

“Why are you being so stubborn about this?” Dean made a motion to pull him back, but stopped himself short and just followed at a gruff pace instead. 

“Why are you being so angry?” 

The question made the hunter pause in his action for a second, but then turned quickly to another kind furiosity. It was the type of anger that sometimes scared Cas, for it wasn’t the usual verbal attack or aggressive stance. Those Cas could heal from, and Dean would quickly shift his mood once the aggression was out. This, however, was the silent, brooding, stony eyes, set expression kind of anger. It was the type of anger that tended to carry on and have lasting effects. 

“Dean?” By now Cas had stopped, uneasy about the ride of Dean’s temper, especially over seemingly small things. 

“No.” For the first time that evening Cas actually paid attention to what the human’s soul was telling him, rather than the actions and words. A thin line of darkness was swirling around the hunter, barely visible in the crevices of the bright soul. “No. I was trying to do something nice, and you’re just going to walk away. You know what, that’s fine. See at home.” Then he started to head back to his car.

Cas was torn. 

On one hand, he was pleased to hear that even in his unreasonable fury, Dean still considered the bunker as their home. Their. As in Cas’ too. The thought did something to the pain still lingering in his chest and swelled his heart. 

Yet, there was another part of Cas that was still in the stubborn mood that urged him to walk away from Dean in the first place. It was that second part of him that won out in the end. “You were trying to do something nice by storming out? By leaving me here?”

“I cam back.”

“It couldn’t have taken you as long as the bunker to remember that I don’t have my wings anymore.” At that last statement, Dean looks minutely ashamed of himself, but it is quickly masked by the growing anger. “What made you think it was okay to walk out and leave in the first place?” Because, as much as Cas still needed to learn about humanity, he had learned some of the more common courtesies, ones that Dean himself didn’t seem so keen on following through with. “And over such a simple matter too.”

“Yea,” Dean scoffed, “because me not being me anymore is such a simple issue.”

Cas sighed, suddenly weary, and wanting nothing more than escape this seemingly meaningless tirade. “All I had meant to bring up was the fact that you were not flirting as much as you once did. I didn’t understand why. I apologize for speaking out of place; it will not happen again. Excuse me.” With finality, Cas turned his back on Dean and focused on the road path ahead. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

It was a long walk, not only because of the distance itself, but also because Cas took his time. The road from the bar back to the bunker was quiet, which Cas found he enjoyed while being lost in his thoughts. It was also bare of most civilization, and the natural environment was a nice change to the angel who was having a hard time functioning in human society on too regular of a basis. In addition, there was a natural scent of pine trees and wilderness that he appreciated greatly. Though he wasn’t too pleased with expending the energy to get back to the bunker, the atmosphere he was now surrounded by allowed him enough time to clear his mind from otherwise depressing or frustrating situations. 

In the beginning of his walk he had almost convinced himself to just leave. Obviously, he had scoffed to himself, Dean wasn’t too interested in his presence at the moment, and there were other things that Cas could do that would be more purposeful. There was no point in hanging around if Dean wasn’t going to care about him being there at all. If the night at the bar was any indication of how the following nights would be, Cas didn’t think he could handle it, nor did he think Dean would appreciate the added burden. 

The calm evening and the quaint surroundings, though, allowed him the time to think through such decisions. If he left, he wouldn’t be able to come back at a moment’s notice like he had in the past. What if something happened to the Winchesters and they needed him, and he was too far gone to get to them in time? And what about Sam? He couldn’t abandon the young hunter after their moment of camaraderie. Even if Dean didn’t want him around, Sam seemed to have appreciated his attempts at comfort, and Cas wasn’t inclined to give up that small purpose just yet. 

So Cas had continued his way to a place that he wasn’t entirely sure of his place in, a mixture of emotions lying at the bottom of his gut. Being an angel though, he was able to distance himself from the majority of those emotions and concentrate on the logical thinking of everything, or just focus on the setting. If he had still been human, he probably wouldn’t have gotten far before having a break down.

“I didn’t expect you guys to get back so late,” Sam commented, when Cas knocked on the front door. He smiled, mistakenly thinking that their late night was a positive thing. He allowed room for Cas to walk in, left the door open a moment longer than necessary, then shifted his expression to one of suspicious unease. “Where’s Dean?”

Cas tilted his head in confusion. “He is not back yet?”

“What do you mean not back yet? I thought you went out to drink together?” There was a thin of anger in Sam’s voice that had Cas winching inwardly. He had done something wrong again. Had let Sam down. Somehow, Sam must have noticed what his state of being was doing to Cas, because he calmed down and tried again. “How did you get here without Dean?” 

“I walked.”

Hazel eyes narrowed, and this time Cas realized that the anger was directed at him, but at his brother. “Dean made you walk?”  
“He was going to, but then he seemed to have remembered that I don’t have my wings, so went to retrieve me. By that time though, I had already to decided to walk and did not take him up on his offer.” There was a pause. “I apologize Sam. I shouldn’t have left him alone. It was petty of me.”

“What? No. It’s not your fault. Ugh. I can’t believe him. The fact that he was even going to leave you behind in the first place.” Sam’s strong jaw tightened and redness started to edge up his throat. “What happened?”

“I believe I made him angry by commenting on his behavior.”

“That doesn’t give him the right to leave you!” The youngest Winchester shook his head in exasperation, anger, and many other emotions that Cas couldn’t identify. Not knowing what else to say to the angel, he began pacing the hall, taking out his phone and dialing his brother. “Where the hell are you?! Pick up your phone dammit!” He slammed his phone shut. “I can’t believe him!”

While Sam was busy being angry, Cas was being having an angelic version of having a panic attack, chiding himself for leaving Dean despite knowing he was in a bad mood. Castiel was an angel; he should have been the “bigger man” - as humans say - and just forgiven Dean for his original impulsive behavior. Afterall, he scolded himself harshly, Dean admitted that in his rage, he had simply forgotten Cas wouldn’t have been able to fly back to the bunker. As soon as he remembered he’d come back for him. That, Cas continued to punish himself mentally, sterner ever second that passed, should have been enough for him. Yet, for some reason Cas had been too stubborn to forgive the hunter who was going through so much. How selfish was he that he had ignored the attempts of asking for forgiveness (in a way that was very much a Dean Winchester approach)?

“Hey, hey, Cas, man,” Sam touched his shoulder tenderly, worry seeping into his hazel eyes. “It’s not your fault. It’s his. He shouldn’t have just left.”

A self-deprecating and depressing sigh escaped. “He came back though,” Cas admitted ashamedly. “He came back and offered me a ride, but I said no. I should have said with him. I should have known he would go off if I wasn’t with him. What if…”  
“Cas, stop. It’s not your fault.” Sam’s words were confident. He continually tried to reassure Cas that he wasn’t the one to blame for the eldest Winchester’s prolonged absence. 

Cas nodded, but not because he believed anything Sam was saying. He just didn’t want the young hunter to worry needlessly about him; not when they should be working to find out where Dean had gone. This was Cas’ fault. He didn’t deserve Sam’s comfort. 

At that moment, Sam’s phone began to ring. “Where the hell are you?” Sam immediately yelled, going back to pacing the hall. He waited in a silent rage as he listened to the answer. 

Cas had the ability to hear the conversation, but he wasn’t in the mood to expend the energy to do so. Dean was safe for the time being, if Sam’s expression was anything to go by, and that was all that mattered. Eyes lowered, the angel slowly dragged himself the stairwell and began to make the climb to the empty room Sam said could be his. 

“Yea, whatever. Just get back here. And you better be nice about it when you get in.” Again, there was silence, but this time Sam didn’t seem to be in such a rage. Cas briefly turned his gaze to the Winchester, catching the softening features. Dean must have been explaining himself well enough to ease Sam’s anger, must have confessed something that he hadn’t thought he could tell Cas. Even more defeated, Cas continued to climb. The last thing he heard before he reached the top was a whisper: “You better apologize to Cas when you get home.” Even more softer than that, purposefully trying to keep it from the angel’s ears. “I think you really hurt him.” Silence. A scoff. “Jerk.”


	6. Chapter 6

Worried, upset, ashamed, and all around depressed, Castiel hid in the room that the brothers had said he could use while staying with them. Dean had yet come back, and he couldn’t help but feel responsible for the hunter’s absence. It was, after all, a small argument between them. Cas could have easily forgiven the hunter’s brash behavior (as he normally did) and accepted the fact that he didn’t leave him there permanently; that upon thinking about it Cas’ well-being seemed to matter at least a little.

The angel was ashamed that he let such a human emotion as pettiness interfere with his ability to soothe the hunter in his time of need. 

A knock came at the door, interrupting his downward spiraling thoughts. Slowly, he went to open it, thinking it was Sam standing in the hallway, seeking comfort, knowledge, or to inform him of something. However, it wasn’t Sam; it was Dean. 

For a moment they just stared at each other. The hunter’s muscles were tense, and the he had a deadening grip on his right forearm, probably in attempts to quiet the boiling Mark. A new wave of regret washed over the angel, angry with himself for being the cause that the Mark was acting up this much. “I am sorry I refused to come back with you.” He stated old voice, the monotone one with little emotion. He didn’t want Dean to know how much he was being affected right now, nor willing to show any further weakness than he already had. 

Narrowed and hardened green eyes soften minisculely. “Nah,” the tight lessen slightly from his forearm and gradually his left arm laid at his side, “I...I shouldn’t have left in the first place. It was stupid.”

“No. I should know that the Mark intensifies all negative emotions.”

“That’s no excuse,” Dean muttered, now looking sideways. A second later, he checked the a hallway as if afraid something would suddenly appear. “Do you mind if I come in?” Cas nodded, not sure why he would be asked when technically everything in the bunker belonged to the Winchesters. Dean attempted to smile in thanks, but it didn’t work and it looked more like a grimace. He closed the door softly behind him, but then simply stood in the middle of the nearly bare room. 

“Is there something you wish to talk about?” Cas ventured. 

Still, it took a few second longer for Dean to gather up the courage to say what was on his mind that he hadn’t been able to say in the hallway. He even paced around a bit, which was something Cas had rarely seen him do, and then he plopped himself on the edge of the bed. “Look, uh…”  
“If it is to continue apologizing. I forgive you.” Dean Winchester was terrible about apologizing, something related to his hatred of ‘chick-flick’ moments. After spending more than an hour of berating himself for his insensitivity to Dean’s nature, Cas was unwilling to allow Dean the chance to break that. If he did, it could have even further devastating effects. 

“No. I...I just want to explain myself.” Cas tilted his head. Since when did Dean ever find it pertinent to explain his motives or actions? Sighing heavily, the hunter tried to continue. “I understand why you were concerned about me back there. You’re right. I wasn’t really act like myself. But...I mean...I’m not really myself anymore.”

“Dean…”  
“No. Just let me finish.” Nodding, Cas stood awkwardly before the sitting Dean. “I don’t trust myself anymore. The Mark...it makes me...I don’t know...crazy. That’s probably the most accurate description. Because you’re right about the intensity too. So, I’m just worried that if I try to be with a woman, the Mark might start burning and suddenly I can’t control myself anymore. Or, if someone were to piss me off during a game of pool or darts, what if I actually do something about it? I just...I can’t hurt anyone. I can’t go through with that again.”

A frown appeared on the angel’s face, hating to see the defeat that the hunter was now expressing. The raw emotion that he was displaying was heart wrenching. That, and it also added to Cas’ sense of regret and guilt. 

The self-pity torment that Cas was putting on himself was cut short. “I’m sorry Cas. I... I didn’t mean to make you mad, or make you think that you had done something wrong.”

Trying to push away his own insecure thoughts, Cas stated calmly. “I want to help.”

A small crooked smile, a mix between saddened and grateful, appeared at the edge of the hunter’s chapped lips. “I know Cas.”

“I just don’t know how.”

“That isn’t on you. None of this is on you.” He buried his face in his roughened hands. 

“Still, it pains me to know how hard this is on you.” Because it was never like this before. Dean was never the one to be so obviously in pain. Of course, Cas had always known there was pain there, complete with rage, insecurity, and all those horrible emotions that the Mark was trying to bring to the surface, but it was never something that Dean wanted to bring out into the open. Therefore, it was something that everyone around Dean could act as if it wasn’t there. It could be passed over in the journey of accomplishing their latest objective. Dean Winchester was always the strong one, the leader of Team Free Will, and it didn’t seem right that he was the one now to be facing this type of struggle.

More than that, it was devastating to know that there was nothing that he could do that could heal Dean from this curse. Dean had always found a way to fix whatever was wrong with Cas or Sam, but now they had no means to return the favor. 

“I’m not your obligation,” Dean stated firmly. At least, he tried to be stern, but his voice was still broken, which weakened the conviction. “I’m not your responsibility.” A little bit stronger this time, “It’s not your responsibility to fix me. I did this to me; I need to be the one to fix it.”  
Castiel remembered a time, right after purgatory, when he had said similar words to Dean. He had tried to explain to Dean how it wasn’t his responsibility to get him out, but such words fell flat on the hunter’s ears. 

“That’s a bit hypocritical.” He stated instead of pointing out the similarity. He didn’t point out the fact that Sam had been the one to allow himself to be tempted by a demon and ended up letting Lucifer go, yet Dean had stayed by his brother’s side and helped him to right those wrongs. He didn’t point out that he himself had been the one to work with Crowley, to have consumed the souls of Purgatory, and had let the Leviathans walk the earth, yet Dean had taken him back into the fold and helped him get rid of the problem. Not only that, but had refused to leave Monster Limbo until he had found Cas and gotten him back home. But Cas wanted to point all those things. 

Dean scoffed, knowing it was true. “It’s not the same.”

Frowning, Castiel wondered how it was different. How was everything Dean had done for him and Sam, any different than what Sam and him should do for Dean?

“You guys had good intentions. You didn’t…”

“And what were your intentions?” Cas interrupted. “Were they not to get rid of a great evil? Are you telling me that you took this Mark knowing what it would do?” Because, for all of Dean's fault, purposefully doing wrong and causing destruction, was not one of those shortcomings. This was the Righteous One sitting before him, and it had been righteous intentions that had led him to seeking out the First Blade. 

“No, I...I didn’t know. I didn’t know anything about it. Which was stupid. I wasn’t thinking.” He bashed his head against calloused knuckles. 

“Yes, that is a motif with you,” Cas tried to lighten the mood Dean sometimes did, but was uneasy about such attempts. Quickly, he made up for it, “But that doesn’t take away from the fact that you had gone there wanting to do something good.” Finally, green eyes lifted from his hands to peer at Cas. “Let us help you. I want to help you.”

“How?”

“We will find a way.”


	7. Chapter 7

This chapter will be in the limited 3rd perspective of Dean. Please enjoy, and leave comments.

 

*****

Dean and Sam Winchester had just finished with another hunt, a rather simple one that resulted with the poltergeist burned before any further victims could be claimed and no wounds gained by either brother. On one hand, it was nice to have a clean-cut hunt for once, without any of the usual added turmoil or bodily harm. On the other hand, Dean had the feeling that this type of hunt had been purposefully sought out due to its simplicity by his little brother. 

For a little over a week, the brothers had been hold up in the bunker, researching ways to get rid of the Mark, occasionally helping other select hunters with their research (on Sam’s side only), and trying to pass the time as if nothing was excruciatingly wrong. In the beginning it had been fine. Dean didn’t necessarily like being tethered down for too long, but he liked the sense of homeliness that the bunker provided. What was more, Cas had stayed for a few days in the beginning, and the angel’s presence, with no current danger at their throats (other than the one that was branded on Dean’s arm), was a pleasant change of pace. 

However, Cas had left over three days ago. Something about fixing wrongs and angels or maybe something else; Dean wasn’t paying too close attention. All he had truly heard was that Cas was heading off again, and would be back who-knows-when. In addition, the Mark was pulsating against his forearm, itching for a fight, that made the bunker a less than savory place to be constantly. The Mark wanted blood, and if it didn’t get what it wanted, Dean would pay the price. 

So, annoying Sam to the point that the younger Winchester had no choice but agree to a hunt, the two had set out two states over where a ghost was killing over step-fathers.

Not that the hunt had done anything for the Mark’s bloodlust. Dean hadn’t even had to fight that much. It was a simple salt and burn, and the poltergeist was vanquished easily. A part of him wanted to yell at Sam for babying him, but he controlled himself for the time. He understood Sam’s hesitancy for anything more challenging, and he didn’t want to encourage the Mark by getting angry at the one person he would never forgive himself for harming. 

“I’m going to go out and get food, okay?” Sam asked, looking towards Dean with concern. “You good?”

Putting on a facade, Dean replied with a grin, “Yea, I’m good. Get me some pie and beer.” 

Sam smiled in return, seeming to at least be pacified by the fact that Dean was attempting to behave as usual.  “Yea, okay. Be right back.”

When the door closed behind him, there was little for Dean to do, so he plopped onto the bed to stare aimlessly at the ceiling. In the background, the TV was playing, but Dean didn’t have the capacity to really get into it. The Mark was starting to burn and the veins beneath his skin were itching for something more. It was the only sensation he could feel. Though the Mark had no way to whisper dark nothings into his ear, the pain on his forearm that then coursed through his entire body was enough to push him over the edge. Even worse than hearing the chant of “kill, kill, kill” was the emotion he could feel within himself to want to fulfill that dark desire. 

He needed to get out, but he couldn't get out. With the Mark this loud, there was no way he would be able to stop himself from beating up any poor schmuck that got in his way, or gave him a simple look. The second he walked out that door, he knew, the Mark would have won, and everything that he, Sam, and Cas had been trying to maintain would all be for nothing. 

Speaking of Sam and Cas - he tried to focus on them instead of the Mark itself - they seemed to be getting along a lot better than usual. Granted, they had always gotten along on some level. At least, they had tolerated each other in the very beginning, and then gradually became friends. They shared a lot in common, such as being awkward, nerdy, and just plain weird. Despite their friendliness, and their similarities, and even their affirmation that they were a family, they were never truly “friends” in the actual sense of the word. 

It had always been with Dean that Cas had the infallible relationship with. It was with Dean, that the angel had the “profound bond” with, and therefore it was usually Dean whom he spoke to and hung out with. With speaking about it a case, it was Dean that Cas directed most of observations to. It was Dean that Cas stared at while the three of them spoke together. It was with Dean that Castiel broke away from his Angel-of-Lord persona to be the one and only Cas.

Now it seemed like that spot had begun to be filled by Sam. Even during the days that Cas had decided to stay at the bunker, Dean was under the impression that Sam was the main reason for doing so. Dean and Cas had spent one evening together, the bar in which Dean had abandoned him at, and then that night of confessions that neither one of them had talked about afterwards. Other than that, Cas spent the time with Sam in the library helping him do research, organizing the shelves, or simply conversating. Dean had caught the two more often than not, talking about something Cas had seen on TV and smiling. 

Even now, with Cas gone and doing whatever it was that he was doing, it seemed like the angel was more willing to call Sam than to talk with Dean. Actually, there was no “seemed like” at all. Cas only ever called Sam, and he called him almost every day. 

It was actually sort of annoying, when he really thought it. Dean tightened his grip on the forearm that housed the Mark. Why were the two getting so close now, when it was Dean that needed the support? Why, when Dean truly needed him, was Cas moving closer to Sam now more than ever? 

His envy and irrational rage was interrupted by Sam walking in. “Don’t you knock?” Dean growled, upon seeing Sam entering with the phone attached to his ear. He could only guess who was on the other line. 

Sam stared at him like he was insane, which was probably a correct assessment. “I told you I’d be right back. I would have hoped that you wouldn’t be up to anything too...personal.”  
With an angry huff, Dean pushed himself up to an upright position, and glared at the phone in his little brother’s hand, still poised by his ear. “Who are you talking to?” Though he already knew the answer, and he hated that the thought of them being closer friends was making him react like this, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Cas,” Sam answered slowly, seeming to realize that Dean wasn’t entirely himself. “Do you want to talk to him?” 

Again, Dean huffed. Tense, he reached for a beer and twisted the top off with unnecessary vigor. 

Narrowing his hazel eyes, Sam spoke into the phone calmly, “Cas, I’ll you back. I have to deal with Dean.” Completely ignoring Dean’s glare, he continued, “Yea...yea...I think so...Okay...see you soon.” Setting the cell phone down, Sam turned towards his older brother with determination in his shoulders. “What is wrong with you?”

There was plenty wrong with Dean, but he wasn’t about to say that. “Nothing.”

“So you’re pissed about nothing?” There wasn’t exactly irritation in Sam’s voice, but instead it was a sincere question. 

Taking in a deep breath, Dean tried to calm down. He tightened his grip on the Mark, he clenched his teeth as he talked. “What did Cas say?”  
“He’s about to head over to case a couple of towns from us. We were talking about meeting up.”

“A case?” Dean scoffed. “Didn’t realize that he was searching for his own cases.” 

Ignoring the indignant comment, Sam added, “So tomorrow morning, we’re heading out and hopefully catch up to Cas at a diner by lunchtime.”

“You can go catch up with him by yourself.” 

“Don’t be stupid. You’re coming.”

“No.”

“Yes, you are.” Suddenly, Dean was on his feet, his fists at his side threateningly. Sam backed up in shock and slight fear, but kept his ground other than that. “Dean,” he spoke slowly and calmly, as if speaking to a frightened and extremely dangerous animal (again, not too far from the truth), “you wanted to go on a hunt. So that’s what we’re going to do. And Cas wants to help, since he’s close by. Don’t you want to see Cas?”

“Why would care about seeing Cas?”

A pause. Staring. A sigh. “Do you want your pie or not?”


	8. Chapter 8

Back to Cas’ perspective 

**********

Castiel waited for the Winchesters at Moe’s Diner, constantly looking out the window to see if they had arrived yet. They weren’t late per say, but Cas was anxious to see them again. Sam had called him back early in the morning to warn him of Dean’s latest mood, an illogical anger towards both of them, and how the Mark had been on red alert the entire night. So Cas wanted to see Dean himself, to decipher what the real problem was that the Mark was reacting to and intensifying. Hopefully, he could help ease Dean’s frustration where Sam had fallen short. In addition, he was looking forward to giving Sam the extra support he needed. 

Sam and Cas had been speaking regularly now, staying caught up on each other’s whereabouts, happenings, and mood. If his latest calls were of any clue into Sam’s current state of mind, he wasn’t holding up too well. Though he was staying strong for his brother’s sake, keeping on a brave face and humoring Dean as much as possible to keep a casual, comfortable environment between them as much as possible, dealing with an irritated, irrational, and insane Dean day in and day out was obviously getting to him. 

“Can you I get you anything honey?” The waitress returned again, smiling sweetly down at him.

“Not at the moment, thank you.” 

She didn’t leave immediately. Biting her lower lip, she had to inform, “I’m sorry sweetheart, but you have to buy something if you want to stay here.”

“I guess I’ll have coffee.”

“Coming right up.”

Cas got through three cups of coffee before the impala drove up. 

“Hey Cas,” Sam greeted happily as the two brothers came in. Dean just gave a polite nod, but he seemed too consumed by unpleasant thoughts to form any sort of verbal greeting.

“Hello Dean. Sam. How are you?” The question was directed mainly to the younger Winchester, for he knew Dean wouldn’t answer truthfully anyways.

Sam gave a small, both tired and grateful for the concern of the angel, but he didn’t give a response. If he had to speak out loud, he’d have to lie too, and he didn’t want to lie to Cas. 

The waitress returned and the boys ordered their food. 

“So, what’s this case you’re on?” Sam asked once their food arrived. He leaned forward so other customers and waitress wouldn’t hear, with Dean still leaning back, acting as if he could care less about anything the two talked about. 

Dean’s disinterest hurt Cas slightly, for it was usually Dean’s attention that he wanted. However, at this time, Cas pretended to be just as disinterested in the eldest hunter, in favor of continuing the conversation with the youngest. “Werewolf, I think. Just one. Four victims with their hearts missing have been found in the park, claw marks on their legs. All victims are male, happening every Friday night, being found Saturday morning.”

“What are the locals doing about it?”

“Law enforcement has been stationed in the park, but they are at a loss.”

“Sounds too easy,” Dean muttered, staring out of the window. His jaw was tense and his eyes were narrowed. 

“People are dying, Dean,” Sam stated flatly. From the tone of voice, Cas noticed that it was something that Sam probably had to do a lot lately, to remind Dean of their actual purpose. “It doesn’t matter if it’s easy; it has to be done.”

“All I’m saying is this isn’t a case that needs three people.”

“You’re right.” Sam agreed readily, stopping Dean’s complaint from going any further. “Cas, would you mind taking the case with Dean? I can continue research in the meantime.”

At first Cas was anxious to agree to such a deal, but he two things kept him from disagreeing. One, Dean needed to hunt. Sam had said as much while they spoke over the phone, about how the Mark required Dean to be active, about how being inactive was causing him to be a “pain in the ass”. Two, Sam needed a break. 

“Of course I do not mind.”

“Why don’t you two do the hunt by yourselves,” Dean suggested rudely. “Since you’re such good buddies now and everything. I’ll just find my own hunt.” 

“Dean, stop complaining,” Sam admonished. “You’re being ridiculous. You want to go on a hunt. I want to do research. And you’re defiantly not going out alone.”

If the Mark wasn’t making Dean’s natural appearance look so menacing, the pout would be considered childish and almost adorable. As if was, now it was a little frightening. “I don’t need a babysitter.” He growled threatening.

Not bothering to face his brother, Sam replied tiredly. “No one’s babysitting you. You and Cas are going to be working a case. Stop making a big deal about it.” Before Dean had a chance to retort, Sam gave Cas his complete attention to inquire, “Do you mind if I borrow your car to get back to the bunker?” 

Sam must have been extremely tired of his brother’s antics if he was willing to drive Cas’ car, Cas knew, for the Winchesters constantly mocked him for the ridiculousness of the vehicle. 

“Of course. I have already got a motel here as well. Two beds. First motel listed in the phonebook,” Cas said all this with his head held high, very proud of himself. 

He was rewarded with a smile from Sam, praising his improving hunter skills. “Awesome job Cas.” Again, he gave Dean no chance to reply to anything being said between the two. He stood quickly, put down a couple of bills, and nodded at the waitress sweetly. “Then if you don’t mind, I’m going to head out. Get as much research as I can.” He was speaking quickly, so Dean had little chance to add his own angered thoughts. “Call me if anything comes up or if you need help.” The angel handed him the keys to the bumblebee car outside. “Thanks Cas. Talk to you later.” Finally, he turned to his brother with a wavering grin, “Call me when you calm down.” Then he was out the door without another word.

The hunter across from Cas crossed his arms, his nails digging into his forearms. Green eyes were narrowed dangerously, and unfortunately, they were narrowed at Cas now.  Trying not to react too strongly to Dean’s disgruntled and threatening posture, telling himself it was the Mark that was influencing his irrational anger, Cas stated observantly, “You seem angry.”

“Not angry.” 

“Then what?”  
Dean took a moment to think, and Cas was surprised to see that the grip he had on his forearms. “Frustrated, I guess.”

“Frustrated about what?”

Again, there was a pause in which Dean seemed to actually be thinking about the answer. Cas almost had the hope that Dean would give a proper reply. That hope was unfounded. “Nothing that matters.”  
“Dean.”

“It doesn’t matter. Forget about it.”

The conversation was frustrating to the angel, but he tried not to react upon that frustration. If this was how Dean had behaving the last few days, no wonder Sam had left in such a hurry. It would take much of Cas’ patience to deal with the hunter if this was how he would be acting during the case. “Dean,” he tried again, using the voice he had learned often got Dean to soften and listen to reason. 

This time was different. Nothing about Dean softened. “I’m frustrated that my brother just dumped me here without caring what I wanted. And he’s been babying me. Don’t think I don’t see that.” 

People around them started peeking glances their way, getting uncomfortable by how loud Dean was increasingly getting. Not wanting for him to cause any more of a scene, Cas tried to stop his rang, “Dean.” He tried to make his tone soft and understanding, but he wasn’t entirely sure he was able to manage that sort of emotion into his voice yet.

“And you’re no better!” Dean accused, completely ignoring Cas’ attempt to calm him. “All you care about nowadays is how Sam is doing. Calling him everyday. What? Just forget about me”

“Of course I didn’t forget about you.”

“Well you could have fooled me.”

Cas stared Dean down. Is this why Dean had been upset recently? Was he feeling abandoned by his friend and his brother? Like he was third wheel? Cas would have laughed if he had the sense to recognize the hilarity in its irony. As if Dean could ever be the third wheel of anything. He was the glue that held the former Team Free Will together, was the center. If he weren’t for Dean everything would have fallen apart ages ago. 

“Dean, I apologize for not calling you. Sam had asked for daily updates. If you wish for daily updates as well, I would gladly call you every day. I always enjoy our conversations together. I would be overjoyed to have those conversations daily.”  

Whether it was the sincerity of the statement, the cheesiness of it, or the embarrassment of such a sentiment, Dean’s posture became tense for an entirely different reason. The irritation and frustration erased completely, leaving behind uncertainty. “Yea, okay. That’s fine.” A slight red crossed over the bridge of his freckled nose. “Let’s go. What’s the name of the motel you paid for again?”


	9. Chapter 9

Affirming that Cas would call Dean just as much, if not more than, Sam seemed to settle the curse hunter. Cas wasn’t entirely sure what had irritated the Mark to begin with. He was sure it had been something. As angered and illogical the Mark was, it usually only intensified what was already building up inside of Dean himself. Therefore, there must have been a problem, some kind of repressed emotion, that Dean hadn’t been able to work through himself, and the Mark had taken it upon itself to act upon.

When the two arrived at the motel, old and torn just like the Winchesters tended to get, Dean went straight for the showers, giving Cas a chance to call Sam. A part of him felt a little guilty about calling Sam as soon as Dean was away for a time, but he would have felt more guilt if he didn’t assure the younger Winchester that his decision to take a break was completely understandable. 

“Dean has calmed down quite a bit,” Cas whispered into the phone. 

“I’m glad,” Sam did sound relieved, and Cas was immediately warmed by the sense that he had made the right choice by calling as soon as possible. “I had no clue why he was mad, and it was starting to freak me out...and frustrate me.”

“He was…” he stopped before saying what had occurred at the diner. He wasn’t entirely sure what had been Dean’s main issue (because Cas not calling him didn’t seem heavy enough), and he had no right to share that when obviously Dean hadn’t wanted to tell his brother. “He was angry at first, but we talked for awhile and he seemed to deflate.”

“Well, good. He’s still deflated?”

“Yes. He’s in the shower.”

“Okay.” There was a short pause, one that Cas recognized to be Sam’s way of rethinking something. “Hey, Cas, I’m sorry that I just bailed, but…”  
“It’s okay, Sam. I understand. I don’t mind, truly. You deserve time to relax. And I enjoy spending time with Dean.”

There was a sigh on the other end of the line. “Well, I hope that stays the same after a few days with him alone. He’s been insufferable as of late.”

The shower turned off. “I am sure I will. I will talk to you later. Goodbye Sam.” The phone was tucked away and the angel placed before the TV by the time Dean came out. 

Cas had the thought of keeping his eyes on the TV, so as to appear preoccupied when Dean watched out of the bathroom. He had been told on numerous occasions (mainly by Dean) that he created awkward and tense situations by staring at people when they entered (or staring in general). So, to avoid being awkward, Cas was going to keep his eyes on the show.

That was the plan anyways. What he hadn’t counted on was the fact that Dean might come out of the restroom having just taken a shower, getting ready to retire for the night, not being in the most modest sense of attire. For one, Dean was in nothing but boxers. Two, he was still wet. 

“You want a shower?” Dean asked, moving towards the bed that he had earlier claimed as his. “You might want to wait a little,” a little bashful, he dried his hair messily with his towel, “I might have used most of the hot water.”

There did seem to be a quite a bit of steam coming from the bathroom. “Thank you for the warning.” Though he probably wouldn’t be taking a shower that night. Since leaving the bunker, he had taken to showering in the morning. He found the water pressure and heat helped to dissolve any night terrors that might have lingered within his dying, borrowed grace. 

“Plans for the night?”

Cas squinted, trying his hardest to keep his eyes on thes how rather than turn to stare unabashedly at the hunter beside him. “Sleeping?”

“Yea, obviously. But before then?” Again, Cas squinted. “Dude, it’s eight. I ain’t sleeping yet.”

“We could watch a movie?”

“Sounds good. Anything good playing?”  He passed the remote without turning his body. Dean scoffed at the movement, but switched through the channels. “Anything look good to you?” 

They ended up choosing to watch an old film _ Casablanca _ , which Dean seemed to find it necessarily to tell Cas that Sam was never allowed to find out about the selection. He groaned, sighed, grunted that there was nothing better on, but then settled down and seemed very much interested in it. Cas, himself, found the old film intriguing, but he was more mesmerized by Dean’s expression while watching. 

At first it was just by watching out of the corner of his eyes: seeing the tiny, crooked smiles, and the crinkled, lighted eyes. Then, as the movie got more intense and more romantic, Dean leaned back against the headboard, ceasing Cas’ ability to see his expressions. All that could be seen from the hunter out of the corner of eyes were long, bowed legs crossed over one another in a casual manner. Finally, Cas couldn’t control the urge to actually stare full-heartedly at the relaxing hunter on the other bed. 

He had his arms behind his head. Muscles on biceps were clear and defined. The Mark was also clear, an angry, redden scar that marked an otherwise beautiful and pure body. Short dirty blonde hair was still damp, the towel long forgotten, draped on his shoulders. His stomach was muscled, but not as much as one might expect from an experienced and victorious hunter. Cas thought the muffin top made Dean all the more alluring. It made him more...Dean. Pie-loving, exercise-hating, and yet still quite toned. 

“Cas,” Dean gave a warning drawl, but it wasn’t threatening or angry. 

“Yes, Dean?”

“You’re staring again.”

“I apologize.”

“And yet again, you don’t actually sound sorry.” 

Cas took it as a good sign that Dean sounded more amused than he was irritated. Still he tread gently. Last time they had started a conversation that Cas had thought would go smoothly, Dean had tried to leave him behind before remembering that without wings getting to the bunker would be a little too mean even through a Mark fueled rage. 

Not knowing what else to say, Cas controlled himself enough to direct his attention back to the TV, nearing the end of the movie. He wasn’t even sure what had led the two characters to where they were now. 

The credits rolled. Dean tossed the remote to Cas’ bed. “You can watch whatever you want as long as it quiet enough that I can sleep, deal?”

“Deal.” He didn’t reach for the remote. He just watched Dean slink further down into the bed, toss the covers over himself, and turn on his side. “Good night Dean.”

“Good night Cas.”

**********

They started the next day early, setting out to interview potential witnesses and family members of victims. As expected, the case was fairly easy. For one, it was just a single werewolf. Technically, it was a bron lycanthrope, one that could change no matter the stage of the moon, but even then, it was a basic monster after everything else the brothers had fought against. It was a type of monster that the Winchesters were more than acquainted and could handle with ease. Two, the werewolf had set for itself very strict routines. 

It was so easy, in fact, that once they had made their way into the park, they hadn’t even needed to wait for dark for Dean to be able to track it. Though the officers had been clueless as to who was killing these innocents, and where they were heading off to, a trained hunter like Dean had no trouble locating the clues and finding his way to the lycanthropes hideout. 

The hideout was just a little ways past the park, far away from other residences, in a small cottage like house that seemed to have been vacated years ago. The lycanthrope was nesting there with no electricity, no running water, or anything remotely related to being connected to civilization.

Cas almost felt pity for the creature that they found there; so far gone that he hadn’t even wanted to be connected to anything. So far gone, that it hadn’t bothered to get out of its animal form to sleep cuddled in the middle of the floor. It had only startled awake when Dean’s boots bent the rotten floorboards and a loud creaking sound echoed throughout the house. It picked up its head drowsily, sniffed the air, and then all of sudden, it pounced. Claws flexed out and teeth sharpened, it aimed for Dean in deathly bloodlust. 

The attack didn’t concern Cas, though. He had seen Dean fight enough times to know when something was actually a threat to the hunter, and this crazed, barely awakened animal was nothing compared to everything else that had tried to go against the great Winchester. With ease, Dean reached for the blade that he had at his back, swung it in front of him, and watched the wolf head roll off with its teeth still poised for a bite. 

“Well, that was boring.”

“We were taking care of a case,” Cas commented as drily as Sam had probably done days earlier. “You have saved the lives of countless others; boring or not.”

“Yea.” Dean wiped the blood from the blade and placed it back where it had come from. “Still, I was kind of hoping for something a little bite more.” Instinctively, he scratched at the Mark’s scar.

“Is it hurting you?” Cas asked almost as if it were a mere conversation as they dragged the carcass outside to be buried (just in case locals did come this way).

“Not today,” Dean replied just as casually. “Just sort of itches.” The burying of the dead lycanthrope took more time and more effort than the actual killing had taken. By the end, Dean was sweating and red-faced, while Cas could feel the edges of exhaustion, but controlled himself enough to keep the humanness of sweat to appear. 

“A celebratory drink usual follows, does it not?” Cas wondered as they headed back through the park and towards the impala. Dean didn’t reply immediately, and so he rephrased his statement, “After a case, you and Sam usually go out to a bar, yes?”

“I guess.” Dean sounded gruff, but his normal gruff, not the Mark induced type of gruff. “But I wouldn’t really consider this a case.”

“But it was.”  
“Maybe, but it was too easy.”

Cas tilted his head questionable. “And because it was too easy, it doesn’t deserve a celebratory drink?”

“Exactly.”

There was a short silence between the two. Acting as if they had just spent the last three hours strolling the entirety of the park leisurely rather than slaying and burning a monster, they got into the car. Dean started the impala and slowly drove out of the parking lot, seeming to decide for himself what exactly he wanted to do next since the case hadn’t taken as long as they had planned. It was a rare moment: a case being even easier than they had originally thought. 

“Are we heading back to the motel, then?” Cas suggested when he realized that Dean’s unhurried speed was due to indecision. “I believe there are more movies available for us.”

Though he had wanted to perform the same rituals with Dean as Sam did, Cas couldn't’ say that he was altogether disappointed that they might not go out to a bar. The last time they had drank together wasn’t a pleasant memory, and the idea of spending another evening seating beside Dean and watching him watch an interesting movie seemed entertaining enough. 

What was more, as much as Cas thought that Dean needed to socialize during this time, he was selfish in that he tended to prefer to spend time with Dean alone. He understood that Dean was a people-person and strived on the attention that he earned when going out, but Cas was awkward in such situations, and would feel comfortable in the confinement of their run-down motel room. 

“Yea, I guess,” Dean sounded bored, which wasn’t too surprising. The Mark on the inside of his forearm was thick and red, but it didn't seem to be thrumming with adrenaline. “Maybe get some pizza and drinks before we head back.” Green eyes glanced away from the road for a moment to silently see if Cas would approve of such plans.

The angel smiled upon feeling the hunter’s eyes on him. “Pizza sounds good.” He couldn’t fully appreciate the taste of food anymore with grace now flowing through the vessel, but he remembered what the cheese and grease tasted like and he would like to sense the vague molecules of such a treat again. “And pie?”

For the first time that day, Dean smiled. It wasn’t too wide, with just the edges of his chapped lips lifting upwards, but it was sincere. “And pie.”

That, if nothing else, warmed Cas inside. He had made Dean smile. That meant he had done something right. 


	10. Chapter 10

Cas was mildly surprised that the rest of the evening went smoothly. They stopped to get two boxes of pizzas (because Dean said the meat lovers was completely his), some beer, apple, and two movies from the video store: The Avengers and The Princess Bride. Once in the motel room they settled down comfortably, with Dean casually leaning against the headboard of his bed, and Cas sitting almost rigidly at the foot of his. 

They started with the Avengers, because Dean said he had only gotten the second one because he thought Cas would like it, and that the angel could watch it by himself if he stayed awake tonight. The pizza was dug into hungrily by the hunter, while Cas picked at the stolen meat lovers, wishing he could still taste food as humans did. Beers were practically inhaled, while Cas only sipped at his, casting the occasional glance backwards to check on Dean’s mood. Though he was glad that the night seemed to be going well, with the hunter calm and engaged by the night’s chosen victory activity, he didn’t necessarily approve of the amount of alcohol that was being consumed. True, he had offered to go to a bar with the hunter, but would have hoped there would be other distractions as well to slow the hunter down. Or at least, the hunter would slow due to his need to drive back to the motel. Currently, though, Dean, content and relaxed, had just gotten through his six beer, which Cas was sure was tad bit much for a human to drink within less than two hours.

Still, all he did was cast concerned glances towards the hunter. As much as he wanted to point out the harm that would be done to the internal organs, he also knew how easy it could be to upset Dean at this time. He might have seemed perfectly happy now, but one wrong word from Cas and Dean could blow up again and do something foolish in his temperamental state. It was best, the angel decided, to just keep an eye on him and stay silent.

The problem with that was that Dean noticed the consistent glances. “Dude,” he sighed, rolling his eyes, “you really have to stop staring,” Cas opened his mouth, “And don’t say you apologize.” Cas closed his mouth. “What are you staring at anyways?” On any other day such a question would have been stated rudely, with a lift of mockery to it, but at the moment Dean sounded sincerely curious. 

“You.”

Again, Dean rolled his eyes. More than that, Cas noticed the small lift of his lips in an attempt to keep from smiling. The angel felt another swell of pride and happiness within him for having the ability to cause such an expression on the hunter even when the Mark had been going through its mood swings. 

“Why?”

Cas squinted at the question, trying to come up with an accepted excuse. A while ago he would have stated that he was staring at his soul. The bright soul that had encaptured his grace and mind even in the depths of Hell because of its beauty and righteousness. The soul that had completely thrown his divine existence into chaos because Cas had been too mesmerized by it to allow another being to enter into it’s flesh. 

Even now, Cas kept an eye on his soul, though he found himself depressed by the darkness that now swirled around its edges. 

Now, though, it couldn’t be said. Mostly because it wasn’t true. The last time Cas had looked upon Dean’s soul, they had been in the garage and the darkness had been trying to seep through the cracks. Since then Cas had been too scared to find how his soul might have changed to see it. He purposefully closed his true eyes and only viewed Dean in terms of the physical, which was tiring, but also more safer (in terms of Castiel’s immediate mindset). 

“I...do not know.” He ended up saying, the words separate and distinct, slow and hesitant. 

Dean rose an eyebrow. “You don’t know why you keep looking back my way even though the TV is right in front of you?” There was a smug expression on his face that Cas couldn’t decipher clearly, an underlying smirk that was threatening to become full fledged. “I’m just that good looking, huh? Too distracting for you?”

“Yes.”

The smirk tried to stay, but it faltered under the blush that crept along the bridge of his nose. Then, as if to hide the fact that Cas had been able to cause such a reaction, he scoffed, and forced his eyes to gaze past Cas and towards the movie that was about to end. 

When the movie did end, Dean ‘reluctantly’ put in The Princess Bride, muttering how he was still awake and there probably wasn’t anything good on anyways. Cas had the suspicion that Dean really did want to watch the movie himself, and wasn’t entirely sure as to why he was pretending otherwise. 

“Aren’t you ever going to relax?” Dean asked a while later. 

Cas shifted to look back at Dean, his head tilted slightly, his blue eyes a little too wide. “I am relaxed.”

“Could ‘ave fooled me.” 

The angel kept his head tilted, then straightened and turned back to the TV. Almost robotically, he began to untie his shoes and slip them off. Then he stood in his black socks to slip the trenchcoat easily off and place it on a nearby chair, along with his tie. Satisfied that such attires being taken off would appease Dean’s sense of what constituted as being relaxed, he sat on the edge of the bed again. 

From the corner of his eyes he could see the hunter’s lips twitch at the sides. “That’s a start.” He sighed softly, and Cas was sure that eye-rolling had been involved. “Why don’t you lay down on the bed?” 

“I do not need to sleep.”

“You don’t have to sleep. You just have to lay back. Kind of like I’m doing. It’s more comfortable.”

When Cas looked back to study Dean’s position, the hunter wiggled slightly and smiled to exaggerate his comfortableness. He was about to inform Dean that he was comfortable as he was. Though sitting still had been a chore for while he was human, as an angel, the position didn’t bother him at all. As long as there was some sort of entertainment before him, Cas could have remained sitting upright for hours on end without moving. 

As soon as the thought entered his head, though, he decided against it, and instead did as Dean suggested. He lifted himself off of the edge, and then made his way to the other end. Briefly glancing at Dean so that the position would be done correctly, he maneuvered himself to the center of the bed with his heads propped up on a pile of pillows, leaning against the headboard. He studied the hunter a little closer, putting on foot of the other, swinging one arm to be braced beneath his head, and wiggled a little further down the cushions. 

A laughed escaped the hunter’s lips. Cas straightened at the sound and stared at Dean to see what had caused such a reaction. Dean revealed nothing. Squinting in accusation, Cas asked, “What is so funny?”

Dean smiled. “Nothing.” The smile widened and green eyes were fond. “Just...huh...man, you’re something?”

“Something?”

“Something good.”

“Oh,” Cas preened under the casual praise. “Thank you.”

They fell back into a easy silence, watching the movie intently. When the movie ended, Cas expected for Dean to switch the movie off and flip through the channels for something else to watch, but the end credits played until the very end. Curious, he turned to Dean, and found him to be soundly asleep. 

A small smile played at the edges of the angel’s lips at the sight of the sleeping hunter. He was sprawled in the same position as he had been earlier, with an arm behind his head, his legs crossed over one another, and slumped in a half sitting, half lying posture. The empty pizza box was on the side of the bed, and a plate of mostly eaten pie was even closer still. The arm that wasn’t behind his head, had a light grip on the last beer bottle, swaying lazily over the end of the bed. 

With fondness and something else that Cas wasn’t sure he should be trying to define, he got up to put everything away. He took the beer bottle away last, staring at it with disdain as he threw it away with the empty ones on the bedside table. Then he moved back to the hunter’s side, wondering if he should try to bring the comforter up around him. Not wanting to take the chance, he just whispered gently, “Goodnight Dean.”

With a drowsy mumble, already deep within an unconscious state, “Night Cas.”


	11. Chapter 11

The cell phone started to go off around six in the morning, Dean still sleeping soundly in the next bed over. Quickly so that the vibrations didn’t wake his companion, Cas answered. “Hello Sam.”

“Mornin’ Cas. I just wanted to check up on you.”

Cas smiled to himself at the consideration. As hard as it had been for him these past few days, worrying over how Heaven was doing in their resettlement and worrying about saving Dean, it helped that Sam had been calling him more recently to “check up” on him. It made him feel appreciated and looked after, as if he were truly a brother. Which was needed. There was too much going on with Cas, even separate from the issue with Dean, that could have so easily destroyed the angel. To be honest, it was the younger Winchester that was helping him to stay afloat. 

“I am doing well, thank you.” 

“Dean’s not being too big of a hassle, right?”

Again, Cas had to smile to himself. “No. He’s been fairly easy to handle.” Other than being put out for a time because of the simple case, Dean had been on in a surprisingly good mood. “After the case, we came back to the motel and watched movies and ate pizza.” The evening had been pleasant, and being next to Dean had eased some of his more anxious thoughts concerning recent developments. 

There was a small surprised sound that came from the other line. “Really? No outbursts or anything? No crazy behaviors?” Cas briefly wondered how crazy Dean had been behaving with his brother, and was once again glad that he had been willing to give Sam a chance to take a break. “Did he sleep okay? No screaming, or anything?”

The angel cast his gaze upon the still sleeping form of Dean. “No. He had slept soundly through the night, and is still asleep.”

“That’s good. I’m glad.” Cas could hear the sincerity in his voice. “What about you, Cas?” He was speaking gently, as if not to spook him. 

“I am fine.”

“Cas…”

“Sam…”

A small, meager laugh escaped through the line. “Come on, tic for tac, you know.” Cas tilted his head in confusion at the phrase, despite nobody being able to see him. “So, honestly, how are you doing? Nothing to do with Dean, or anything, just you?”  
It was so similar to the question he had Sam so many weeks ago, that Cas felt like he did have to take the opportunity to think it through and answer honestly. Sam, after all, had been truthful when it had been about him. “The evening had gone well. I truly enjoyed it.” And he had. Spending time with Dean when Dean was in a good mood always put Cas in a better place. Even just being beside a sleeping Dean, one that was seemingly content in his unconscious state, was a good place to be in Cas’ mind. “But,” he was willing to admit to Sam, “it has been hard these past few days.”

“Trouble with the rogue angels?” 

“Not so much.” Cas had stopped going after rogue angels once Hannah had back to Heaven permanently.“I...I haven’t been in much contact with any of the other angels.They are busy trying to fix Heaven, and I am...I am here.”

There was a pause as Sam tried to take in what Cas had said, taking everything into account, one piece at a time. Unlike Dean, the younger Winchester took conversations like these seriously and had the ability to aid in emotional struggles. “You miss your home?” He wanted to clarify. 

It took longer than it should have for Cas to arrive at a conclusion. “To an extent.” He stared at his lap, thinking over it carefully. No matter what he came up with, it felt like he would be betraying someone, and that sort of betrayal, on either side, caused a deep ache in his mostly inhuman heart. “I do want to be here,” He tried to explain. “I would refuse to be anywhere else but helping you find a cure for Dean.” That was the truth. No matter what happened now, Dean had too much of an influential impact on his life to ever willingly give him up. “But, that is not to say that I do not miss Heaven. To be with my brothers and sisters.” Once he started, he found it was hard to stop. “Heaven has been a mess for so many years, centuries even, and they are finally trying to fix those cracks that had been created. There is a large part of me that wishes I could be a part of that restructuring.”

Hannah had asked him of such before she left for good. Though she had doubts for a while about his loyalties, in the end, she declared him a competent leader. In her mind, and the minds of many of other angels, Cas was the most qualified for the job of taking over Heaven. There were multiple problems with that however.

One, Cas had already seen how well he handled power. With what had happened with the souls of Purgatory and how far the Leviathans had taken him, Cas had been permanently drawn away from anything remotely relating to power or leadership. (That was a whole other issue that Cas was dealing with altogether) 

Two, there were many angels that had found their way back home that still very much hated him. Though there were enough that would follow him if he took up the charge, it would only be more chaos up there since a fraction would oppose him. 

Three, as it would turn out, Hannah had been right to be concerned with Cas’ loyalty. At least in the sense related to Heaven and its angels. Because since the moment Cas had banished Zachariah from the green room, Cas had aligned his loyalty with Dean and his brother. Now, hell or highwater, Cas would stay with Dean. 

“I understand, man. I’m sorry.”

Beside Cas, the sleeping form began to stretch. “Dean is waking up. I will call you later, Sam. Thank you for checking up on me.”

“Sure buddy. Talk to you later.”

Closing the phone and leaving it off to the side, Cas glanced at the other bed. Dean was tossing beneath the sheets, behaving similar to how he sometimes did when being allowed to wake naturally. It was almost calming to watch Dean slowly wake himself up from a good night’s sleep, because he was sure Dean hadn’t been able to do so for quite some time. 

However, that peace that overtook Cas as he watched over his ex-charge gradually turned into doubt and concern. The angel had watched Dean sleep enough times to know how long it typically took Dean to wake himself from slumber without anything prompting him to do so. It usually took a minute or two, but this was taking him over five. Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Cas quietly moved closer to the stretching hunter, to figure out why he had yet to open his beautiful eyes. 

Not wanting to spook his friend, Cas gently placed a soothing hand on the hunter’s shoulder. “Dean?”

It didn’t matter how gentle Cas tried to be, or calm and soft he had spoken and touched him, Dean went into immediate action. A calloused grip tightened around Cas’ slim wrist and suddenly the angel was being pulled onto the bed harshly, and slammed against the headboard. If he wanted to, Cas could have easily gotten away from the rough hunter (at least, he hoped he could still easily get away from Dean), but for now he allowed for the panicked Dean to hover over him. There was a tight hold on Cas’ right wrist, while Dean’s other hand had reached for a knife that Cas hadn’t been aware Dean had held onto in the evening and had it pressed it against Cas’ neck.

“Dean,” the angel stated calmly, not too worried about his own well-being, but very much disturbed for Dean’s own sake. Above him, the hunter stayed in his threatening position, his dark green eyes hardened. “Dean,” Cas spoke with as much warmth as he could muster, determined to break Dean out of whatever terror he was caught up in. 

It was too similar to how Dean had reacted to Cas when he had tried to save him in the depths of Hell. Not to say that Dean was so far gone in blood, gore, and torture, but there was the sense of desolation, despair, and darkness that Cas hated to see so clearly in the hunter’s demeanor now. 

“Dean,” he tried again. 

An animalistic growl escaped from the hunter’s chapped lips, and the knife pressed a little more deeply into the angel’s throat. Cas was worried. He had enough grace left that he would be able to heal himself from any scratches that were caused. Of course, Cas knew, Dean would feel incredible guilt once he was back to his clear state of mind despite Cas’ abilities.

“It’s okay Dean,” Cas reassured quietly. “It’s me. Cas.”

His calm, deep voice did nothing. There was no recognition in Dean’s eyes, much like that time in Hell. He didn’t even seem capable of comprehending his environment. All there was for the hunter in this instance was the darkness that the Mark was creating for him. The knife rose from Cas’ throat, poised as if ready to strike fast and hard, ready to go in for the kill. 

This time Cas did make a move, because he wasn’t ready for Dean to wake up to the reality of blood on his hands. Thankfully, Cas did have enough strength to overthrow Dean’s weight off of him. With a powerful shove, the hunter was knocked to the side, and Case threw himself over his body, holding down his legs with his own knees, and pinning the hands that threatened to fight him to the side. Unfortunately, the Mark was granting Dean strength that no human should have been able to possess, and Cas could feel himself weakening against Dean’s power. 

Careful to not anger the hunter any further, he leaned forward in the pretense of a hug. Years ago, when Naomi had tried to control Cas’ mind and force him to kill Dean, Dean had gotten through to him by holding onto his arm and saying that he was needed. Maybe Cas could bring the hunter back to his senses with the same kind of sentiment, the same kind of intimacy. 

“Dean, please,” he whispered close to his ears. “It’s me, Cas. Please Dean. I need you.” The fight slowly eased. “Dean.”

“Cas?” The hunter sounded weak and confused. 

Cas waited for a second to make sure that Dean wasn’t going to attack him again. When it was obvious that Dean had indeed came to his senses, Cas quickly removed himself from atop of the hunter. 

“I apologize,” he hurried to explain, knowing how much Dean disliked the invasion of personal space. “You were having trouble waking up, and when I moved to…”

“Don’t apologize Cas,” Dean cut him off. He had pushed himself to an upright position, his legs swung over the edge. Green eyes were lowered to the floor in shame and a million other emotions. “I’m sorry.” He buried his head in his hands. “God, I…”

“It’s okay, Dean…”

“No!” He practically yelled. Then, upon realizing that he was yelling, soften his voice. “No. Cas, it’s not okay. I...I shouldn’t have attacked you.”

With a silent sigh, Cas asked gently, “Were you having a nightmare?”

“I don’t know, man. It was just...darkness, I guess. No nightmares; just feelings.” He sounded so defeated. “I...I didn’t even know it was you. I couldn’t really see anything. Or sense anything. Just...:”

“The sense of darkness,” Cas finished for him. 


	12. Chapter 12

The rest of the day was spent with Dean wavering between being grumpy and guilty, never let up for a moment of the enjoyment him and Cas had been able to feel the evening before. Under Cas’ insistence, they went out to eat breakfast. Cas figured the only reason Dean agreed in the end was because he felt so bad about how the morning had begun that he’d do pretty much anything the angel asked of him at that moment. Not to say, that Dean still didn’t complain and grumble most of the time getting there.

“Would you like to go on another hunt together?” Cas asked seriously while they ate their Slammers in an uncomfortable silence. 

The question surprised the hunter, and he looked up from his plate with wide green eyes, seeming to need the time to catch up with what was being asked. Cas simply stared at him, patiently waiting for a reply. “A hunt?”

“Yes, a hunt. There is haunting about three counties over. We could go before returning to the bunker.”

There was three main reasons why Cas was offering to go on another hunt with Dean despite the unfortunate beginning of the day. One, Cas wanted to keep a closer eye on his hunter. It was hard for Cas to stay in one place very long (more difficult for him than even the eldest Winchester), which was why he was continually trying to find another mission accomplish, or another job that led to the main objective that year. Though it was also hard to continually be leaving the Winchesters’ side, he couldn’t bring himself to stay put. However, if Dean were to travel constantly with him, maybe Cas wouldn’t feel as flighty. It’d be easier to move at the hunters pace now that he didn’t have his wings tempting him to fly away, came a bitter background thought. 

Two, Sam had been too stressed these last few weeks. From what Cas could gather, Dean had been a much more troubling companion with his brother than he was with the angel, and Cas wanted to give the young Winchester a chance to collect his thoughts and relax. If that meant that Cas got to spend some time with Dean alone, all the better.

And three, there was the thought that maybe a hunt would do Dean good. The Mark was a dangerous curse, and it wasn’t like avoiding conflict would keep the Mark quiet. In fact, if Cas was reading Dean correctly, it seemed the quiet seemed to be upsetting the Mark even more. Maybe, the angel hoped, if Dean hunted more often, much like he used to a few years ago before they found the bunker and he tried to “build a nest” there, the Mark would be appeased. Though this was a risky idea, Cas was confident in his own abilities to guard against any negative consequences of such an action. It was better to try at least something than continue to allow Dean to sense this consuming darkness.

Green eyes narrowed, and Cas had to wonder what was wrong with the suggestion. A tight grip was around his lungs at the thought that Dean was actually tired of the angel’s presence. Was he so appalled by spending any more time with Cas that he wasn’t willing to take up the offer another hunt so quickly? “You’re not just going to fly away?” The harsh question hurt, a reminder of Dean’s insecurity from the day before, and Cas quickly realized his misunderstanding. “I thought this was just some hunt to take me off of Sam’s shoulders, and then he’d just dump me back on him again.”

Cas sighed at the depreciating thought. “I am going “dump you” back on anyone. Do you want to go on a hunt or not?” He had learned that sometimes what Dean needed was a hardened response, someone to match his attitude so he didn’t get too out of line. Cas didn’t do it often, because he didn’t feel comfortable placing himself against the hunter, but when he did use his “angelic voice” (as Dean called it) or was infuriatingly stubborn, Dean tended back down. At least, he did before the Mark. 

Anxious, Cas waited for Dean’s reply. For a while, all the hunter did was stare unabashedly at the angel. He didn’t even look up at the waitress when she came to take their plates and set down their check. “Yea, fine,” Dean gave an offhand acceptance. “We’ll go on another hunt. But,” he pointed emphasis, “this one better be more interesting than what we just went though. I’m tired of baby hunts.” 

So they ended up in the impala with enough gas, drinks, and junk food to drive for twelve hours straight. Once the decision had been made about going, Dean was determined to get there and get started as soon as possible. As he drove, he listened to his classic rock at a reasonable volume while Cas was put on research duty, finding everything he could about the case using the internet on his phone, and looking for possible connections. 

At one point, Cas got tired of researching and rolled down the window to enjoy the wind. Dean spared him a glance, but his gaze swiftly returned to the road without a word. It was almost a tiring ride, which was an unusual thought when Cas was alone with Dean the impala, for he typically liked being in close quarters with the hunter. However, their drives alone had never lasted this long, and it certainly hadn’t been this quiet before. So, Cas had decided, if Dean wasn’t going to speak to him, he was going to try and enjoy the ride some other way. 

Dean was going fast enough that the landscape that they were passing by was blurred. All Cas could really see was colors, unless he focused his angelic eyes to see the actual aspects of creation. However, as it was gradually becoming true, Cas rarely used his “angelic” eyes unless absolutely necessary. Not only was it a way of conserving what little grace he might have had left, but he was also beginning to like seeing things through human eyes. Humans saw things so much more intensely, and it was too often beautiful.

Again, Dean’s eyes glanced over to see what Cas was doing, but then took his attention away without saying anything. The constant gazes without nothing be said was starting to grate Cas’ nerves, but he tried to ignore that feeling. 

Trying not to let Dean’s lack of communication with him to bother too much, Cas stuck an arm outside to feel the pressure of the wind. He had often seen kids do the same thing, and had always wondered what the appeal was, why it always seemed like they were at peace with the simple motion. Cas know knew that it was indeed peaceful, though he was still at loss of understanding why. 

The next time Dean glanced over to Cas’ side of the car, there was a small lift to his lips, as if trying to keep from smiling.

Time passed like that, with the silence in the car not as uncomfortable as it had been for the first couple of hours. Dean continued to drive, his fingers drumming softly to the music, and Cas with his hand swaying against the wind as they flew past the scenery. It wasn’t long after that Cas was moving further out of the window, truly enjoying the wind passing by his skin and through his hair. When Dean looked over next Cas practically had his head outside the window, leaning against his out stretched arm with his eyes shut. 

A hearty laugh escaped the hunter, causing Cas to startle back inside and stare wide-eyed at the his companion. With laugh lines crinkling at the edges of his eyes, Dean explained, “You look ridiculous.” Cas narrowed his eyes at the casual insult, but he couldn’t make it too harsh because Dean was still smiling. “Child-like.” Which was still an insult in Cas’ mind, and he displayed his displeasure by continuing to narrow his eyes and thinning his lips. Dean smirked. “In a good way….You look...peaceful.”

At this, Cas gave a small smile. “Yes. It was quite peaceful. I’m not quite sure how something so simple can bring such peace, but it does.”

Dean was still smiling as well, which was probably the longest Dean had stayed smiling since the Mark had been pressed into his skin by Cain. On second thought, it was probably the longest Dean had stayed smiling in years, long before the Mark had ever cursed him. “I get ya. And you know, it usually is the simple things that bring peace.” Unfortunately, at this comment the brightness that had momentarily graced the hunter’s green eyes dimmed, and his smile faded. Too quickly, the moment was over, and Dean turned his attention back to the road. 

Cas kept his eyes on Dean, thinking about what had just been said. It was the simple things that brought peace. Was it truly something so small as that? Could Cas find peace if only he spent more time doing these small, child-like human things? Could Dean find peace if he were able to spend more time doing the same? 

It wasn’t even the Mark that was keeping Dean from peace right now, Cas’ mind was swirling downwards. Dean hadn’t been at peace since he was four years old and helping his mother in the kitchen. Constantly on the run, hunting one monster after another, the Winchesters, never had a chance to enjoy the simple things in life for an extended amount of time, or to fully appreciate said simple things. Or, Sam might have had that peace for a while, when he had managed to escape his father’s obsession long enough to go through college. Dean, though, Dean had never bothered to leave this behind to find that peace. His father had engrained the hunt inside him, and now he couldn’t bring himself to abandon his mission. 

The idea that Dean had never truly found peace, even the small peace of sticking out one’s head while driving down a highway and forgetting for just a moment the worries of the world,  saddened the angel. After everything Dean had done for the world, after saving so many people, he deserved to take a moment and enjoy those small things. But world was harsh, and unrelenting.

Frowning, Cas wondered, “What are the small things that bring you peace?” Not a peace that allowed an escape of the cruelty that surrounded him, but at least something that could bring some joy to a world of darkness. 

“Burgers, beer, and babes.” 

Quizzically, Cas repeated, “Burgers, beer, and babes.”

“Yep.”

Except, those things weren’t really working out for him too well anymore, Cas scrowled. Alcohol didn’t have the same effect it once did, and babes, as Dean had already told him, were self-proclaimed off limit. It couldn’t be healthy that Dean was cut off of two of the three things that made him happy. “Do you want to stop by and get burgers before reaching our destination?” 

Dean smiled at Cas’ attempt to bring him peace, but didn’t respond. Cas figured that meant they weren’t stopping. 

The car went back into its round of silence, and Cas returned his gaze to what lay outside, planning on way that he could bring Dean in these worst of times. 


	13. Chapter 13

Three days later the ghost hunt was solved, with the soul of a school teacher from thirty years ago burned. She had been killing off bullies that came through the halls of the school she used to teach at, past and present. The only thing difficult about the case had been the fact that her victims had been a mixture of teenagers currently bullying their peers, and adults that had bullied in their high school careers. Once the identity of the ghost was realized, though, it was a simple salt and burn.

They returned to the hotel after making sure the burning of the body was successful - with too many hunts having not resolved just because they burned the body. Dean plopped onto the bed unceremoniously, his face planted into the pillow, his boots still secure on his feet. Cas came into the hotel in a more easy manner, locking the door behind them and then quietly making his way to the other side of the room. He eyed the hunter warily. “Dean? You are tired?”

The hunt truly hadn’t been that hard. Compared to the amount of energy Dean usually spent on cases, this one couldn’t have even been qualified as a work out. Still, the hunter certainly seemed exhausted from the day. 

In response, Dean groaned, then turned onto his side, propped up on his elbow. “More like bent out of shape. Mentally.”

The angel stared at him with a critical gaze, giving specific attention to the way the Mark burned hot. “You are stressed,” he stated, earning himself an eyeroll from the hunter. “And you are still adamant about the fact of not going to a bar to “pick up a chick”?” At Dean’s hardened glare, Cas explained. “Sex is an excellent way to reduce stress.” Dean continued to glare, rage filling his eyes. “I have always thought that was why you’ve slept with countless women over the years despite having no interest in anything about them other than what they can do for you physically.”

“Dude!”

“When I had sexual intercoarse with April, it too much of the distress I felt about being newly human for the time being.”  
“Until she killed you.”

This time it was Cas who glared, but he refused to retort verbally. For almost a full minute blue eyes battled with green, each trying to see what the other was thinking, to see past the exterior, and to break the will of the other. It was Dean, as usual, that broke the contact. With a deep sigh, he laid back down on his stomach, this time his gaze facing the opposite wall. Almost half an hour later Cas could tell the hunter was still wide awake and still under great pressure from the Mark. 

“Pool is another way to relieve stress, yes?”

Dean sat up with an eyebrow raised. He gave a hollow laugh. “You’re seriously still on that?”

“I would like to play,” Cas corrected. “Please teach me.”

Again, they stared, but this time it was really only Dean who was trying to find answers hidden in blue eyes. Finally, he stood with a shake of his head. “Sure, let’s go play pool.”

By the time they arrived at a low key bar, had claimed pool table, and ordered two beers, Cas was proud of himself for suggesting the idea, for Dean already seemed less tense. On top of that, he was no longer irritated with Cas for suggesting that he needed to have sexual intercoarse with someone. 

“Alright.” Dean took a stick and held it like a spear, a warrior getting ready for battle. “How much of this game do you know?”

Cas narrowed his eyes the way he did when studying something or someone. Then, he also took a stick and positioned himself, an exact imitation of Dean. “I have watched you many times, actually.”

“Dude, you have got to stop saying things like that.” Dean made sure his expression was stern to get his point across, but Cas could see how hard he was trying to keep in the smile. It was also hard to miss the way green eyes lit in what could almost be constituted as happiness. 

Encouraged by Dean’s reactions, Cas continued on as he usually would. “Why? It’s true. When we were trying to stop the seals I often stopped by to check up on your progress and well-being. Most of those times you were at a bar, many times playing pool.” On top of that, he had seen him play pool with Sam countless of times when the three of them had gone out, rare those moments might have been. Cas nodded as if he had explained well enough and stared at the pool table as if it an enemy. “The game seems simple enough, though I may need you to correct me if I get a step wrong.” He put the balls in the rack to set the game. 

As Cas readied himself to break, he could feel Dean watch him carefully. With a smirk, the hunter interrupted his shot, “Most of the time? What was I doing the other times?”

“Different activities.” Cas stoically replied. He had missed his shot and that fact seemed to befuddle him as he stared at the stick in his hand like it was the stick’s fault rather than his own. Silently scoffing, he stepped back for Dean to take his shot. 

“Uh-huh.” The hunter sunk a solid, and then, and another. There was an artistry to his movements that Cas admired. The way he poised himself over the pool table, bending slightly so the curves of his backside were on clear display. “Any of those activities concerning me, a girl, and a motel?”

Heat rushed into the angel’s cheeks, though it quickly dissipated. Not too long ago, such reactions wouldn’t have been any sort of problem to the angel, but after his few months as a human, blushing and other human tells had been hard to control. The light pink that dusted Cas’ nose made Dean give a playful grin. He bent over the table again to sink in another ball. “See anything you like?” He even added a wink for extra measure. 

“I never stayed too long.” 

“Just long enough.”

It was just playful banter and a simple game, but Cas was pleased to learn that Dean was indeed de-stressing. How long had it been since Dean could relax and have fun? How long had it been since Dean hadn’t tried to control his every action, too worried that the Mark would push him over the edge? Cas made a vow with himself to try and allow Dean more opportunities like these. 

Dean ended the game in his second turn and set the rack back up. He was the one to break this time, and could have done well with starting the game, but had decided to give Cas a chance. Eager to truly play the game right, to continue to show Dean that he was willing to participate in these simple things in life so that the hunter may find the peace that he needed so badly, Cas took his stance and aimed the pool stick. Dean stopped him before he could pull the stick back. “You’re concentrating too hard.”

Cas glanced up and tilted his head curiously. “I am simply concentrating on the geometry of the game.”

“And still sucking.” The hunter was now almost directly behind the angel, though of course Cas gave no notion of minding the invasion of personal space. “You got to relax.” The irony of the statement was left alone. Calloused hands moved to Cas’ shoulders to angle them slightly. With his foot, he moved the angel’s right leg to go forward and forced him to bend his knees. Cas did as Dean instructed without question. “Grip the stick with your left hand lightly.” He showed him what he meant by demonstrating. “Then aim with your right. Remember, don’t concentrate too hard. Just aim.”

Cas nodded and did as he was told, sinking a stripped. He spun around with a triumphant smile. For something so simple, compared to everything else he had done in the last million years, Cas looked like this had been one of his proudest moments. It was in the moment that Dean seemed to realize just how close the two of them were and just how intimate his actions before would appear to those around them. He immediately took a step back, about ready to revert to his natural responses. 

Before he had the chance to do any damage to an otherwise nice evening, his phone rang. “And that’s my warden.” He chugged the last of his beer and put his pool stick away. “Thanks for the game.” He turned to walk outside so he could talk to his brother in peace. 

“Anytime.” Cas promised, but Dean was already too far away to pay attention to his companion. 

“Hey Sammy...Yea, I’m fine...Just finished with the case....we’re fine....yea....” 

Cas watched with baby blue eyes, longing for Dean to come back and for them to return to their game and close friendship. Or, not friendship necessarily. As much as Cas had hung out in bars with the Winchesters, he had never seen two friends treat each other the way Dean had just treated him. Friends bantered, joked, tried to ruin each other’s shots. Friends did not stand that close to one another, as Dean had constantly had to remind Cas. No, Cas fought off a smile, what had just happened had been more than the actions of a friend. Like Cas had informed Dean, he had watched him often enough to see him play pool quite a number of times, and he had seen the times that Dean had stepped behind his companion to correct their stance and whisper in their ear, and help them aim. Those times all had one thing in common: it had been with a woman that Dean had wanted to sleep with.

The thought of being treated like one of the girls that captured Dean’s attention for a time both pleased Cas and distressed him. He couldn’t deny that he wanted that type of attention from the hunter, to have the hunter stare at him with the same hunger he had seen when he looked at certain women. What he didn’t want, however, was to be tossed aside as all of those women had been. 

With mixed feelings coiling around inside him, Cas stepped forward to follow Dean out. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Third person point of view, limited to Dean Winchester.

It had been a month since the two cases with Castiel. In that time hanging out with Cas alone had become a routine thing. At least once a week Cas would show up out of nowhere and spend some quality time together. Usually, they hung out at bars, because that was typically where Dean was when Cas decided to show. They played a little more pool until Cas had proven himself an expert in the game and had won more than just a few rounds. They moved on to darts, which Cas was more naturally attuned to, and beat Dean much quicker than he had with pool. Dean had even tried playing wingman for the angel, but every time Dean left him alone with a girl, Feathers got nervous and scared the girl away. 

Sometimes the two stayed in the motel while Sam went out to get food or leads, watching the classics, teaching the angel poker, and going over the classics again because Cas couldn’t stop talking the first time around. Occasionally, they’d be at the bunker, going through Men of Letters trinkets, cleaning or retuning Baby, teaching the angel how to cook.

It was nice to have Cas around more often for more than just cases. For once in his life Dean felt like he had an actual friend. He had always viewed Cas as a friend, family even, but like everything in his life, their relationship had never been normal. That was beginning to change. In between the hunting and the researching, Cas and him were doing normal things, and it felt good. 

Of course, that good feeling came only 4-5 hours a week. The rest of the time he was drowning. 

He was back in Hell. Chains tore into his wrists and ankles, holding him above the abyss. There was fire burning him up inside. Red everywhere. Blood. Screaming. His body was being torn piece by piece. Then, suddenly he was complete and it was another soul on the rack. And he was the one doing the torturing. 

“Please stop this!” The soul begged. “Please! This isn’t you!”

Dean chuckled. “Oh, you are so wrong. This is me. The real me.” He brought the jagged knife to Sam’s (for that was the soul on the rack) jaw and slowly dragged it down his body, leaving a deep gash. The blood and the screams were beautiful. 

“Dean! Dean! Dean, wake up!” Dean woke with a start, hand flying to the knife he kept under his pillow. Sam’s quick reflexes was what saved himself from the attack, staring down at his big brother with pain in his eyes. “I brought breakfast. Come. There’s even pie.”

As the younger Winchester left the room, Dean rolled himself out of bed, forcing himself to bury his emotions. Steadily, he walked out of his room and headed down to the dining table. The mark on his arm was bright red, the sign that it needed blood. Anyone’s blood.

“Pie for breakfast. Now isn’t this the life?” He settled down at the table, ignoring Sam’s look of concern. “Thanks Sammy. Just what I needed.”

“Couldn’t find a case. At least not one that another hunter wasn’t already on. So I guess it’s just researching today. Maybe call Cas over. I talked with him last night. He’s not too far away.”

Dean nodded his consent. He knew his brother was lying about the case. There was always a case. However, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to be out at the moment with the Mark already so high strung that morning. “You start researching. I’ll go clean the kitchen.”

Cleaning the kitchen took a lot longer than it should have, because once Dean was done washing the wishes, he had moved onto the counters, mopping the floors, cleaning the windows, and any other little thing that wasn’t absolutely spotless. 

“Cleaning seems to also relieve your stress.” Four hours later the angel commented dryly from the archway. 

Dean gave a brief smile. “I think you got to get yourself a new hobby besides watching my stress level.”

Cas tilted his head. “That is not my hobby. I am only...you’re joking.”

“Just a little.” Dean set the cleaning supplies down, trying to appear a little less domestic. “What have you been up to?”

“This and that.” Dean smiled at the human  phrase leaving the angel’s lips. “Sam said something about us ‘hanging out’”.

“Dude, you don’t need air quotes for that. And yea. No case at the moment, so we figured this would be a good time to relax.”

Since it was Dean they were trying to de-stress it was Dean’s choice what they did, so of course the final decision was a bar nearby. The bar was quieter than usual, a little less rough-and-around-the-edges, but it had beer and whiskey, pool and darts, and a handful of pretty ladies, so it was good enough.

Cas didn’t seem interested in his surroundings, which wasn’t all that surprising. The angel would have probably preferred to stay at the bunker watching TV. For someone who was so otherworldly and badass, the guy sure had a thing for TV. Not that Dean could judge him on that.

“Nachos, Cas?” He slid his basket over, now choosing to devour his double bacon cheeseburger. Cas picked up one to stare at it oddly before putting it in his mouth. Dean watched with an amused smile as Cas chewed it slowly, then frowned. “You don’t like it?”

“Food was my favorite part of being human. Having tasted things like peanut butter and jelly, I could understand your reaction to certain substances. However, now that I have some grace back…it’s not the same. Though I now appreciate human trivialities, it isn’t the same. Quite disappointing actually.”

“Well, sorry to hear that man.” Sam returned with more drinks and chips. “How about that woman over there, Sammy? She looks your kind of nerdy, huh?” Sam looked to where Dean had motioned to see a pretty brunette with long legs and a lovely smile. Basing off appearance, she could be Sam’s type, and Dean saw the thought form in his brother’s mind as well. “Well, go get her tiger.”

“It’s okay. Sex isn’t always on my mind like it’s on yours.” 

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother’s comment, knowing his motive. It got on his nerves that his brother thought he needed to be babysat 24/7. He knew Sam was having a hard time, trying to hold too much on his shoulders, and it only made things worse for Dean to know that his brother was suffering even more for his mistakes. 

“Well then, what about you Cas? Think she’s hot?”

He looked, then turned his attention back to their table. “She does seem physically appealing.” 

“See that Sammy? You better go after her before Cas does. You know how he is with the ladies.”

His brother gave a classic bitch face, having realized that Dean wouldn’t let up until he at least tried to make a move. 

As Sam went over to the girl, Cas turned to Dean. “Any woman here that you find attractive?” He asked gently, wary of how the hunter would respond. 

Calmer this time around than he had been last time a topic like this had been broached with him, Dean did a quick glance around the bar in pretense. Almost lazily, he replied, “They’re alright. Not really my type though.”

“I thought any woman willing to sleep with you was your type.”

Dean laughed out loud. He loved how honest Cas was. How straightforward he could be without any sense of judgement. It was a rare trait to find in someone. In fact, Dean was sure that only Cas had it. “Any of them your type?” He asked with a smirk, a suggestive eyebrow raised. 

Cas didn’t even bother looking around before answering. “I don’t believe I have a type.”

“Everyone has a type Cas.”

Baby blue eyes stared straight at him, searching. Dean should have gotten used to the long stares by now, but Cas did it so intensely that it always managed to rattle something inside him. What was worse, whenever Cas chose to do it, Dean knew he needed to look away but he never could. He always felt that Cas was secretly trying to communicate with him, and Dean might have felt a little regret at not being able to understand it half the time. 

“I’m not interested at the moment. Would you like to play pool?”

“No thanks Cas. I already know you’ve learned to kick my ass.”

“Only because you’re such a good teacher.” Dean could almost swear that the angel’s blue eyes lit up even more than usual and there was a sly smirk twisting at the edges of those lips. 

 


	15. Chapter 15

It was around 4 in the morning when Sam came back to the bunker. Cas was in the library, roving through the multitude of volumes they had shelved after having helped a stumbling Dean to his room. The evening had been mediocre for the angel. Him and Dean hadn’t done much as they usually did when he took the time to visit the hunter, and Cas was surprised that he had felt the state of boredom. He enjoyed spending time with Dean no matter what the activity, but he enjoyed it even more when they actually did something. He had gotten used to the active hang outs with Dean that simply sitting in a bar watching him drink himself into oblivion was depressing.

As the night had edged on, Cas had wanted to tell Dean to stop buying drinks, but he knew it would have little effect. The eldest Winchester never listened to anyone if he didn’t want to. It was best to simply be there to catch him when he fell. What was more, beer was one of Dean’s simple joys in life that brought him peace, and Cas didn’t want him to deny anymore of the simple things in life. 

“Sorry about tonight.” Sam did look ashamed, guilty that he had taken time for himself rather than focusing on his brother.

“It’s not a problem Sam.” Cas reassured. “I am sure you have been stressed as well. It’s only natural that you enjoy some time for yourself.” Wholehearted sincerity was evident in his deep voice.

“Yea still,” Sam reached for the back of his neck in embarrassment. Red tinted his face. “I just...it didn’t feel right taking the night off when Dean’s still cursed.” Because while they wanted Dean to relax, being his comrades, and the only ones who still believed in him, couldn’t do the same. It occurred to Cas that that probably wasn’t the healthiest thing for Sam to be doing, and it could possibly have ill effects later on. “I mean, the only reason I didn’t want to go on a case was because the Mark was affecting him strongly this morning.” Sam sighed. “How’d the evening go for you too?”

“He drank.”

“Right.” Cas didn’t like how tired seemed. He didn’t like that both of his supposed charges were so exhausted and running low. Hadn’t the brothers suffered enough? “So any leads on your end?” 

“No.”

“Great,” Sam seemed torn between two thoughts. “Well,” he seemed to decide, “if you’re not going anywhere, maybe you could stay with us a few days?”

“I suppose I could,” Cas agreed. “If I am to stay, maybe you could take a break. As my time as a human, I have come to understand the need to stop and take the time to heal. And so much stress with so little sleep is bound to make you sick.”

The youngest Winchester didn’t seem to argue with the idea, but the angel had often been told by the oldest, the power of his stern gaze. As hope for, Sam caved. “Yea, okay. A day, I guess. Maybe two. But,” he seemed hesitant to speak further, “you’ll stay by his side, right? I mean, I don’t want you to run yourself ragged either. It’s just…”

“Of course.” Cas cut him short. The angel didn’t have the same needs as the human brothers. What helped him to recharge were the talks with Sam almost every evening, unloading his stress and burdens onto someone who could listen with an attentive and caring ear, and also the casual “hang outs” with Dean. 

There was still some doubt in Sam, but reluctantly Sam officially agreed and left for his room. 

Then, Cas was alone again. Most of the time being alone wasn’t a big deal for the angel. In the beginning he had missed the constant communication with his brothers and sisters, but it had been years since he truly thought of them as his family. Quiet was better now than hearing the disapproval and hatred, even if it was only by a handful by now. 

Anyways, Sam and Dean were his family. Sometimes it was enough to feel the longing of certain members of his new family to know he wasn’t alone. Speaking of which, there was a tug at his grace that signaled the indirect prayer Dean never knew he was sending. The longing he felt send him straight to the hunter’s room in a hurry. There was an emergency in the longing that Cas would never be able to ignore. He wished he had his wings to be at his side immediately. Having to feel the pain and the longing was terrible. At least this time he was in the same vicinity. 

When he got into Dean’s room, the sight of the struggling  Winchester was hard to take in. He was sweating, tangled in sheets, thrashing about crazily. Withering. “Cas…” the moan was a cry for help, under the extreme distress. In the depth of the pitiful sound was the longing for release. To be taken away from whatever torture plagued his sleeping mind. 

Cas took a seat beside Dean’s thrashing side. Careful to not touch him (knowing if he did he’d be attacked even worse than he was before), Cas prepared to enter Dean’s nightmares. It was harder to do with another angel’s grace. 

The sight to behold was Hell. Literally. Dean was on the rack, strung up like a piece of meat, the thorned chains digging into his wrists and ankles. The hunter wore no shirt, but while Cas usually didn’t mind looking upon his muscled chest, he could barely look upon it now. Not a single part of skin was left free of scars, old and fresh. The freshest line of blood being made was by angle blade, carving deeply into the once beautiful man before him. 

“This is what you deserve.” Cas hated the words coming from the torturer, the husky voice too familiar. What was worse was the way Dean closed his eyes in acceptance to the statement. “After all the harm you’ve done, all the people who have died because of you. You wanted this didn’t you?” Dean didn’t respond, which infuriated the torturer to thrust the blade into his side so the hilt met bone. “Dean, answer me.”

“Yes.” The real Cas couldn’t stand to hear the agony or the tears of the admission. “Please Cas, just do it.”

Before the nightmare Cas could act, the real Cas promptly changed the scene. The smell of sulfur, metallic blood, and tears were gone. A fancy hotel room replaced the horrendous atmosphere of Hell where the walls were a clean beige and the sun peeked through white curtains. Dean was on a cushioned mattress atop a dark blue comforter and plenty of pillows. He still shook from the thought of the torture, pleading on his lips, but Cas was next to him to soothe his soul.

Cas’ calloused but gentle fingertips ghosted across Dean’s once marred chest. The hunter flinched at the touch and the angel tried not to take the action seriously. “It was just a nightmare Dean,” he used his soft tone without any of its thunder. “I would never hurt you. You’re okay. No one is going to hurt you.”

The shaking stopped and Dean opened his eyes to see that Hell had disappeared. “Cas?” His broken voice was uneasy, his thoughts trying to catch up to what was happening.

“It’s okay,” Cas repeated, hating the fear behind the glass stained green eyes. “Everything’s okay.”

Though his words were comforting, once Dean realized what had happened to an extent, they became meaningless. “No, it’s not Cas.” He choked. “You should have just killed me.”  
Cas was unsure what Dean meant. Nightmare Cas or the Cas that had promised Dean from going dark again and had failed. Either one was unacceptable. “I couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right my friend. We will find a way to cure you. I promise.”

A bitter response was at the tip of Dean’s tongue, but Cas changed the scenery again. This time there was a sweating Dean who was no longer thrashing about while the hunter stayed asleep. Instead, there were beautiful women in lingerie dancing for him, yearning for him. Cas may not have enjoyed the sight of watching Dean stare longingly at long legs and perky breasts, but it was better than Hell and sex always relieved Dean of at least his momentary stress. Admittedly, Cas had accidentally spied on a few of Dean’s fantasies once upon a time, and knew what he liked. 

Having vanquished the nightmare, Cas should have left. There was nothing more he could do and Dean hated it when he watched him sleep. Once the fantasy completely overrode the torture, however, the hunter was a sight to behold. He was moaning again, softer than before, more sensual. Chapped pink lips parted slightly. His chest rose steadily every now and then catching the beat of arousal. Of course, the most noticeable aspect of the dream was the bulge in the sheets. Out of simple curiosity, Cas glided his finger atop the tip and was pleasantly surprised when Dean lifted his lips to feel more, a guttural moan escaping him. Reluctantly, Cas pulled back and stood. 

This is what Dean needed. An actual release. Playing pool, watching movies...it was all fine, but Dean was a man of primal instinct. With as much that burdened the hunter, a physical connection on its basic level was the only thing that could truly take him away from the darkness for at least a moment.

The problem was, however, that Dean didn’t trust himself alone with a stranger, and the angel couldn’t say that he blamed him. Therefore, female companionship was out of the question. There was a brief thought that maybe Cas could offer himself (for what wouldn’t he do for the oldest Winchester), but Dean would probably yell at him for the suggestion.

Watching Dean continue to give into the fantasy, Cas came up with a tentative plan. If he couldn’t be satisfied by a solid body, maybe Cas could at least allow Dean the mimicry of the sensations. 


	16. Chapter 16

Dean awoke to morning wood, which was not often since he had received the Mark. Usually, all Dean dreamed about anymore was Hell or being a demon topside. Last night any nightmare he did have had been vague, covered by a distant sense of a calming touch. What he did remember were the women. Bombshell women ready to please, and knew exactly how to do it. Best fantasy he’d had since he was a teenager, in fact. The only problem was the aftermath. 

He took a warm shower to relax his muscles, closed his eyes and took a hold of his hardened erection. These days doing the job himself was the only way the job got done. Though even that wasn’t often. To be honest, he wasn’t much in the mood lately. The image of blood tended to derail any lasting lust of human nature. This morning, though, was just his need with the darkness somewhere else. So he kept his eyes closed, tried to bring to mind a girl of his dreams, and gradually quickened his pace. 

“Dean?” Cas’ voice came from the other side of the door just as he was nearing release. He tried to slow his movement so Cas wouldn’t hear his release, but he was so close and he needed it so bad. “Sam was thinking of going out on his own today. Nothing dangerous. So it’ll just be you and me today.” 

“Yea, okay,” Dean’s voice was deeper than normal, barely containing himself from making any suspicious sounds. It would seem Cas’ eternal roughened, just got out of bed, voice did nothing to soften the muscle in his hand. In fact, it just got harder, back to the point of being almost painful. 

“Do you have plans for today?” Cas continued. “We could have one more day of a break. Or we could find a simple case. Just the two of us. Whatever you would like.”

“Okay.”

“Before anything, though, we should have food. You…”

“Cas,” Dean’s voice was strained and there was no way to hide it anymore. “I’m in the shower. We can talk when I get out.”

“Very well. I apologize. Please continue.”

That was all the permission he needed to hold a little tighter and stroke a little faster and he moaned through the feeling of release. He took a moment to breathe, to clean himself off, and stepped out. “Cas, what the hell?” The angel was waiting outside the door for him, the bed hair to match the voice. Blue eyes stared into his, head slightly tilted. “You could have gone downstairs to wait for me.”

“I didn’t mind waiting here.”  
“Of course you didn’t.” Dean grumbled, passing the angel in a huff. He went to his dresser to grab a shirt, trying to ignore the way Cas followed him with his eyes. As always the intensity of Cas’ stare was daunting and Dean didn’t know how to respond. What was up with Cas anyways? What exactly did he want? What exactly was on his mind? “So a case, right? Just you and me?”

“First food.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yea, sure.”

So they went to get food and while they ate they tried to find a case nearby. Cas managed to find a simple one about three towns over involving a haunted house, a dead grandmother going after her greedy grandchildren. It was a simple salt and burn that ended with Dean being thrown through a window and Cas saving him. 

“Well, that was kind of embarrassing.” Dean plopped onto the motel bed as Cas elegantly took off his trenchcoat and folded it across one of the chairs. 

The hunt had been simple. Too simple. Which is probably why Dean hadn’t been taking it all too seriously and was able to get thrown off guard. So now Dean was stuck in a cheap motel room trying to pretend he was perfectly fine. The bruises from the fall were nothing compared to past injuries, and were healing at incredible speed, but the lack of attention on his part angered him. And as the darkness was known for doing, that anger was boiling up inside him. It urged him to leave the room and go find another case, one that required more bloodshed. Because that was what he truly needed, a body to punch and kill, not just a ghost to burn.

That urge was to be repressed, though, seeing as the angel was on guard duty. Sam and Cas worried enough about him that they didn’t need to know every single time he got even the slightest bit antsy. Dean stretched with a painful groan, determined to keep his adrenaline down. He could drink it off. Later sleep it off.

“I could heal you.”

“Don’t bother.” With grace not his own, Cas had to save as much as his mojo as possible. He had no right spending what little energy he had on Dean. Especially for something so minor. Suddenly, he felt body next to him and he bolted up. “Dude! There’s another bed right there!”

“Lay on your stomach. I will give you a massage.”

That was not what Dean had expected to hear. Technically, he hadn’t known what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t an offer to a massage. It was all at once too intimate and too innocent. “It’s alright man. I don’t swing that way.”

As expected, Cas narrowed his eyes in confusion. However, instead of questioning who was meant, he tried to to explain himself. “You are in pain Dean. If you won’t let me heal you, at least let me ease some of the tension.” Before Dean could refuse, the angel continued reasonably,  “In addition to helping you relax muscles, it may relieve your stress.”

Those baby blue eyes were so sincere, so earnest. Even the darkness was having trouble blocking out that much light. Dean took a moment to digest the situation. Him and Cas were alone. No one was around to mock him or to see has less than macho side. What was more, he wanted it. If he couldn’t go out and fight like the Mark wanted him to, then at least he could relax the way his human side wanted. Slowly, he rolled onto his stomach. 

He tried not to tense anxiously as he felt Cas move on the bed. There was a lift of pressure until a leg moved closer to Dean’s body, knee barely touching his sides. Dean couldn’t help catch his breath in anticipation. His skin shivered as his shirt was raised up to reveal his naked back to Cas. Cold hands glazed over his back, the barest of touches. The teasing soon stopped and then there were firm hands at his shoulder blades. They paused for just a moment before they made their soothing motions up and down. There was just enough strength behind Cas’ hand to have an impact on Dean, but gentle enough that it could be considered lulling. 

The hunter tried to ignore the sensual sensation of the moment, to simply let everything go. His breathing slowed and his eyes began to drift. “Where’d you learn to give such a badass massage?” The question was mumbled against the pillow.

“It’s a simple enough practice,” came the easy reply. 

After that there was no more speaking. Dean didn’t have the energy to say anything. All he could do was lay there, enjoying Cas’ devoted attention. 

Dean must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knew he wasn’t on his stomach anymore, but on his back. And completely naked. Upon satin sheets. His eyes were still closed, or maybe the room was pitch black. Either way, he couldn’t se. Just felt. There were soft hands on his chest, sensually going down. His breath hitched as teasing fingers played with his hardening nipples. Then, there was a tongue lapping up the skin that the fingers had teased over. The mouth bit down slightly, earning a gasp of pain and pleasure from Dean. Tongue and teeth then moved up to the base of his neck, nibbling until more groans came. Suddenly those lips left, though fingers still played. Before Dean could complain, lips were on his mouth. 

He couldn’t remember kissing such soft lips before, and he had kissed a lot of lips. As soft as these lips were, though, they also seem chapped, but Dean didn’t mind. He was too busy being driven wild by the loving gentleness and fiery passion. 

Too soon, the kisses ended. This time, however, Dean didn’t bother to attempt a complaint, because he could he still feel them on his body, moving down to where hands lightly caressed the inside of his thighs. Though Dean he knew where this was going, he couldn’t hold down a groan when those lips finally reached their destination. With so little self-control about him, Dean bucked into the welcoming mouth, wanting everything their person was willing to give. 


	17. Chapter 17

Castiel watched as Dean slept, intrigued by the reactions of his controlled dreams. It had been a while since Cas had manipulated the hunter’s dreams. When the angel had first come to earth to guide and monitor Dean’s progress in keeping the seals in tact (at least that’s what he had thought his job was to do back then), he had found it necessary to change the scenes of hell into something lighter. Nights spent in Hell had had an detrimental side effect on the hunter’s wakeful hours, so to make sure he was at his peak during this holy mission, it was imperative that nightmares were decreased as much as possible. Back then Cas often invaded his dreams personally, pretending to have a message or progress report. The invasions had provided Dean a momentary distraction from his usual night terrors, and had allowed him more focus during the day rather than having even his conscious mind plagued by the fires of misery.

It was unreasonable to think that Dean hadn’t had nightmares after Lucifer had been caged once more, but Cas hadn’t felt comfortable in helping in that manner anymore. True, the two had grown closer in many ways, so much more than how their bond used to stand during the original Apocalypse. After so many years and so many things between them, the was impossible to deny or detach from. In addition to the bond they shared, however, there were cracks in their relationship. Cas understood he had made too many mistakes against Dean himself to be fully trusted. Therefore, he hadn’t thought it proper to do anything as intimate as dream manipulation in the recent years.

These last few nights had been the exception. The night before he had done so without thought, too overwhelmed by the horrors of Dean’s nightmares. Manipulating the scene had been all he could come up with at the time to comfort his friend. This time, Dean had been tense after the case, and Cas knew the Mark urged for blood. His righteous hunter had resisted, though. Resisting a power so ancient had to be draining, even more so than Dean let on, and it was hard to watch the righteousness of a man being tortured by an unwelcomed darkness. So Cas desired to bring him some sort of release, since Dean felt himself unable to do so by his normal means.

On the bed, Dean groaned loudly, lifting his hips, his erection hard and straining against the material of his jeans. It was a beautiful sight. Cas was tempted to lay his physical hands on the human, to feel for himself what Dean felt like beneath him. He had found great pleasure in giving im a massage, the muscles beneath his fingers slowly softening. The only reason he had stopped was because Dean had shifted in his sleep onto his back, so that his rising lower half was barely touching Cas’ front. The barest touch had almost sent Cas over the edge. He had forced himself off the bed before he gave into the selfish desire of pressing himself into the hunter. 

“Dude!” Dean practically startled himself awake. “How many times have I told you not to watch me sleep?”  
“Good morning Dean.”

The hunter sighed, not bothering to argue anymore. It didn’t take him long, however, for Dean to realize something was wrong, and before the minute was over, Dean had raced to the motel bathroom. Standing outside the door, Cas could hear him curse under his breath. The angel wanted nothing more than to comfort him, to tell him that there was nothing to be ashamed of, but Dean would probably balk at the direct knowledge that Cas had witnessed him in that state of being. It was best to pretend ignorance and innocence.

When the door finally opened Cas was patiently waiting outside with a stoic expression and wide blue eyes. “What would you like to do today?”  
The question was asked before Dean had the chance to try to dig himself out of an embarrassing situation. As hoped for, Dean stared into his eyes and his natural responses died off. “Sammy still off somewhere? Yea, whatever, I’m sure the two of us can find a case somewhere.”

If Cas was a little disappointed to hear all Dean wanted to do was go on a case, he tried not to show it. Of course a case was to be the answer because Dean was nothing if not a hunter. Very few things could distract Dean from that way of life. It wasn’t healthy. As Cas had said before, stress was adding to the problem. That stress came from the Mark, from always feeling responsible for others, and not willing himself to have what he truly wanted. Constantly hunting increased that stress. It gave him no time to relax, to enjoy himself the good times, to enjoy the company of those who loved him.

What Cas said instead was, “Of course. I will look for one while we eat breakfast. You may choose where that is.” Then he left before Dean could argue. Dean followed if only a little confused and a little upset.

The ride to the diner was spent listening to classic rock, not talking. At first it was uncomfortable for Cas because he couldn’t get the image of Dean’s groans and bucking hips out of his mind. Having Dean so close to him now, after creating such a sensual scene, was making Cas want more. He wanted to be closer to the hunter physically and emotionally. He wanted to be the one to ease the tension away from those taunt muscles. To be the one who Dean came to when he needed to relieve stress, to have someone to talk to to whenever, or to simply be the one to come to for fun.

“You coming or what?” Suddenly Dean was roughly asking him from outside the car, shutting the driver’s door and heading inside without waiting for the angel.

Cas quickly got out to follow Dean faithfully, trying not to enjoy the view as much as he was. Despite his own desires, he knew nothing could come of it. The hunter was at a point in which he wouldn’t accept any forms of intimacy with anyone. To top it off, Dean wasn’t the type to easily to let go of his stand points. Even if Dean wanted him in the same manner, he wouldn’t give up his macho persona to enjoy the comfort Cas could offer.

As promised, Cas searched for a case while they ate. It was still early and already Dean was on edge. Spending a day doing nothing wouldn’t change that, no matter how much Cas wanted it to. Past the laptop, Cas kept one eye on the hunter as he ate, keeping in the smile. Even on edge, Dean was handsome. Charming even.

His phone buzzed to alert him that someone had sent him a text message. Diverting his attention away from Dean and the case he was trying to find for Dean, Cas checked his phone.  

_ Hope you are doing well.  _ -Sam

Cas smiled at the sentiment.  _ I am doing okay. Dean and I are thinking of going on one more case before heading back. Hope you are doing well.  _ Upon further thought, he sent another message immediately after,  _ Make sure you are resting. No cases for you. Or research.  _ Hopefully, the text would convey the stern tone he would have had if it had been said in person.

_ I promise to rest. =D Take care. Call me if you need anything.  _ \- Sam


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most of this story, does not necessarily follow the exact events of season 10. However, there are a few episodes that I thought were meaningful to the development to these characters in of themselves, rather than just to the plot, and so have added them to the plot of this story. 
> 
> This chapter follows of the events of season 10, episode 9: "The Things We Left Behind"

When Castiel had left the Winchesters two weeks ago, Dean had seemed better, at least according to Sam. The younger brother informed the angel the day after he had gone off in search of his own case that he didn’t know what Cas and Dean had done while Cas had been there, but Dean was almost like his old self again. Better in fact, Sam had texted immediately after sending his praise Cas’ way. The old Dean was grumpy to begin with, and masochist to boot, with an attitude a mile high. The Dean that had come back from the case with Cas had almost been relaxed, his old carefree self with a new sense of joy.

It warmed the angel’s heart to know that he seemed to be doing the right thing by his friend. Obviously, he had been correct in his assessment that one of the many reasons everything was so much worse now was because Dean was too stressed. The stress was understandable, but with the darkness that the Mark created, it was the icing on the cake that would explode in Dean’s face. So, Cas was happy to be the one who had managed to de-stress the hunter even if it were only by a little.

For the past two weeks Cas had managed to stay in constant communication with both of the brothers, texting them separating, calling Sam in the morning, and calling Dean in the evening. He always made sure to do that latter, remembering how upset Dean had been when Cas had thought it unnecessary. Another reason Cas called on a daily basis, and texted in between, was because a part of him was worried that the Mark would rage again, and he wanted to know the moment it did. Though he couldn’t bring himself to do nothing while the brothers went on their usual hunts, Cas wanted to be close enough and in enough communication with them to be able to show up at a moment's notice. It was also a good way of knowing Dean’s state of well-being, being able to monitor the Mark’s effects, or even Dean’s own personal emotional rollercoaster. 

For example, by keeping in contact with the brothers, Cas was able to see that Dean’s good mood had lasted all of two days once he had left. Then, after that, Dean was his usual cocky and irritating self. Though Sam complained about such behavior from his older brother, Cas still found the development to be positive. An obnoxious Dean was a whole lot better than a Dean that was persistently influenced by the Mark, and as far as Cas could tell, the Mark had been low key as of late. This morning, when Cas had talked to Sam over the phone, both were doing reasonably well. Dean had had a few episodes in which he got a little too trigger happy concerning a monster, but it wasn’t anything too worrisome. 

“So, what are your plans today?” Sam had inquired. “Any leads on the case?”

This was the question Cas hadn’t wanted to be asked, because the truth made him feel guilty, but the truth was the only thing he would be willing to give. Hesitantly, Cas informed the younger Winchester, “Um, no. I’m, uh, actually on my way to see Claire.”

“Who?” 

“Claire Novak. Jimmy’s daughter.” 

There was a pause on the other line. Cas figured Sam was trying to reign in his irritation that Cas had decided to take a break from finding leads on the Mark to go after personal endeavors. No matter what though, Cas had decided, he needed to do this. He didn’t to right his wrongs, to do penance. And Claire had been one of the people that his wrongs had hurt, and was one of the people he still had a chance to help. 

“Is she okay?” Sam had asked instead of scolding Cas.

“In a groups home. I’m not sure what happened to her mother.”

There was a pause again, but this time Cas knew it to be one of the silences in which Sam was taking the chance to think. “I think that’s great that you want to help her Cas. If you need any help, just call us, okay?”

Really, Cas should have expected the kind and supportive response Sam gave, but sometimes he was too caught up in his own insecurities to remember that he admired the Winchesters for a reason. As narrow-minded as their missions could get at times, they did understand the importance of fixing wrongs and saving innocents. Sam especially, was understanding of Cas’ need of penance, having committed similar sins with supposed good intentions. 

“Yes, thank you.”

With Sam’s blessing that morning, Cas had set out with high spirits to where he knew Claire to be. He wasn’t entirely sure what he would be needed for, but he was confident that once he saw Claire his purpose would be defined. Once he was beside her, he would make sure to do whatever was needed to make up for the misfortune and agony that he had caused her. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her, he had already decided. 

The yelling, the anger, the hate, all of it had been expected. They were things that Cas willing accepted and took upon himself. He had known he had caused her pain, had taken one of the two things she had loved most. Because of this, he had expected her to demand a number of things, even to declare that he serve her for the rest of his life. He certainly would have if she had thought to order it. 

What he hadn’t fathomed in his plans and determination to truly meet the requirements of redemption was that she wouldn’t want anything from him. She got him to get her out of the group home, and then had ran back to whatever horrible person this Randy was. For all the trouble that she had gotten herself into, for all the trouble that Cas had pushed her into by taking away her father, she wasn’t willingly to accept his help to get her out of it.

Since Claire’s disappearing act, Cas had been in a state of panic and self-degradation. All at once he was trying to find Claire once more, and replaying the moments of the day, hating himself even more for the continuing consequences of his mistakes. 

‘And that’s our problem, Mr. Novak’, the stern but caring woman had informed him direly, ‘Claire’s troubled. That last few years have not been easy for her. And she doesn’t need a friend; she needs a father’.

Which Cas had taken away from her. Had led him to his death. Had promised him that his family would be kept safe, and had failed miserably.

‘Like super stuck-up and a dick and you just wanted to punch him in his stupid angel face,’ Claire had stated about his personality with an abhorred look in her eyes as she peered past her fry. 

And he had been exactly like that, as much as he had tried to deny it to Claire and himself. Until he had truly chosen to rebel against Heaven as to aid Dean Winchester in his foolish hopes, Cas had been very goal-oriented (for the wrong goal).

‘Before, I was very self-assured. I was convinced I was on this righteous path. Now I realize that there is no righteous path.’ He had verbalized then, realizing the truth as the words came forth from his lips. ‘It’s just people trying to do their best in a world where it’s far too easy to do your worst’.

Which is why Claire was so important now. Because Cas had done his worst, and even after realizing that his old path had not been the correct one, had not gone back to redeem those early wrongs. He had been a horrible person, a disgraceful angel, leaving innocents such as Claire heartbroken and witness to horrors that no human should have had to endure. 

She had been sweet to him, despite those horrors he had allowed in her life, and Cas had, for almost a moment, been reassured that he was indeed on the right path. Still, as good as it was to hear that she considered him ‘nice; and a ‘doof’, she denied him the one thing he needed most. A chance to help her.

‘I mean you felt guilty, so you busted me out. So thanks, but we’re good. Even Steven.’ Cas hated the statement as soon as she said it. Not only because she wasn’t willing to receive help from him, but because she had pointed out how selfish he was even now. ‘You felt guilty’. The ugly emotion stung. Castiel, the fallen angel in all his selfishness and inability to be useful, hadn’t done this because it was the right thing to do, but only because he had felt guilty. 

If Cas had still been human, hateful, ugly tears might have leaked from his eyes. As an angel, all there was was the anger directed at himself and what felt like a punctured, bleeding heart. 

Cas had watched as she flagged down a car, risking getting picked up by a potential dangerous stranger, than stick by the angel. 

His chest felt it was closing in on his heart, already so beaten by whatever sword had escaped past his chest cavity. His lungs weren’t cooperating. He had to focus on his entire being and expend some of his grace to keep breathing properly. 

Not willing to waste anymore time in trying to save Claire, because it wasn’t just about righting wrongs as to assuage his guilt, but doing right by those who deserved to be done right to, Cas pulled out his phone. 

“I need help.” He gave the address and waited. 

The Winchesters arrived promptly. Castiel was happy for their enthusiastic willingness to help and was pleased to see that Dean was in a mostly carefree mood, but not too pleased with Dean’s seemingly disregard to Cas’ reasoning behind worrying about Claire. Still, despite Dean’s offhanded comments about Claire not being his responsibility, and how Cas had only just met her once, the hunter was still on his side. Even though he thought Cas should respect her decision of wanting nothing to do with him, Dean offered his support by agreeing Sam going to the group home to ask questions, and they stayed to see if she came back.

Then, inside, Dean further showed his support by sincerely inquiring into Cas’ motives. The angel knew the hunter well enough to know that such personal questions said in that specific tone, with that brief glance past long eyelashes, meant a desire to understand someone he cared about. It was a heartwarming, and did wonders in easing the chest pain he had been experiencing a few hours prior. 

Cas knew he should have concentrated on finding Claire, but he also knew there was little he could do until she either came back or Sam returned with leads on where to find her. So, he took the time to appreciate Dean’s presence. Watching the beautiful green-eyed hunter eat with such an uncalled vigor, Cas found out in that moment, brought him a sense of peace. It was relaxing to speak with Dean so openly, to reveal his desire to right his wrongs, to actually be talking about the past instead of having to pretend like it never happened until it became too much and emotions raged uncontrollably. It was amazing to be able to stare into a calming face, painted with charming freckles and not be scolded for staring too long.

But then, Cas himself had to ruin it by bringing up the Mark of Cain. He had thought that this ‘sharing and caring’ would be able to go both ways, since Dean was doing so well in talking about Cas’ dilemmas, but the angel really should have known better. As Dean tried to convince Cas that he was okay, simply because he wasn’t going around with black eyes anymore, Cas could see the tension returning to the hunter’s muscles. For a moment, Cas had worried that Dean would revert to his usual outburst of anger, but what was said instead was even worse. 

‘If I do go dark side, you got to take me out.’

Cas knew exactly what was meant by that, but it was too horrible a prospect that he tried to deny the request. 

‘Knife me. Smite me. Throw me into the freakin’ sun, whatever.’

Essentially, be the weapon to destroy the most important being in the angel’s life. Blue eyes stared deep into pleading green, without ever verbalizing the agreement. Because, as much as Cas would give his friend, this was not one of those things. 

Maybe Dean would have pressured for an answer, if the silence had persisted between them, but thankfully for Cas, Sam called with news. Cas schooled his expression to give the impression that all that mattered now Claire. Until she was found, everything else had to be put on the backburner. 

Which turned out to be yet another mistake.

Cas cradled the small body to his chest, trying to hide her from the horrors left behind in that house. She clung to him, seeking comfort in a world that could not be comforted from. In the middle of the room, covered with the blood of the dead, Dean had sunk to his knees. “I didn’t...I didn’t mean to,” he was chanting, just as horrified as the rest of them about what he had done. Trembling on the inside, Cas wrapped his arms around Claire a little tighter and led her outside. 

He wanted to wait for the brothers to come out, to be the one to help Dean come to grips with what the Mark had led him to do, but he had to take care of Claire first and foremost. She was sobbing into his chest, her fists wrapped into his trench coat. With everything she had been through that day, running back to Randy, being given up like a piece of property to a worthless man by someone she had seen as a father figure, the fright of fleeing the scene, and then, to witness the bloodshed of a tormented stranger, she was exhausted. Exhausted to the point to truly breaking. 

Gently, he picked her up, cradling her like baby. Strong willed and tough as she was, she allowed to be coddled and wrapped her arms around his neck to cling to him neck. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered, knowing as the words passed his lips that they were a lie. Still, speaking softly to her seemed to soothe the child in his arms, and he continued to whisper empty promises as he took her away from the massacre. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

  
  



	19. Chapter 19

Sam had convinced Castiel to stay at the bunker for a few days after what had happened. Cas was sure the stern suggestion was of two parts: 1.) so Cas would have the chance to relax after the drama and horrors that had taken place, and 2.) for the angel to a grounding force for Dean, who had so obviously lost himself to the Mark. However, the only thing Cas was capable of doing while hold up in the bunker was lock himself in the room that the Winchesters had apparently cleaned out for him. That’s where he had been for the past three days. In this partially empty room, the door closed but not locked, sitting perfectly upright on the edge of the bed. 

The majority of his thoughts revolved around Claire, and everything she had lost. A part of Cas felt guilty that Dean, and all the suffering he must have been going through at that moment, but he couldn’t gather up the energy to do so. Not to say that the hunter was at all forgotten, or that the angel blamed the hunter for the darkness that had overtaken him, but just that there was too much weighing down on the angel. Claire had been his responsibility, after all, and Cas had once again failed to keep her safe. 

For as bas as Randy had been, as sick of a soul that had developed, he had still been a human man, someone that the lonely and lost Claire had viewed as a father figure. And Dean had brutally massacred him. Claire had seen the bodied littering the living room, had been witness to yet another traumatic event. 

In a rare moment of physical vulnerability, Cas dug his face into his palms, wanting everything around him to fade away so he could wallow and guilt himself in utter peace. If he still had his wings, he would have flown to far away mountains where no human could possibly reach to search revelation. His throat closed in on itself at the thought.

A knock sounded at his door. Thinking it was Sam come to check up on him, he stoically informed that the door was unlocked. The person that came into the room however, was Dean.

Long seconds passed as they stared at each other motionless. Dean’s green eyes were wet, a clear sign that the hunter had been doing his best to keep tears at bay. Strong muscles were tense. The Mark was an ugly, angry scar, but it wasn’t the vibrant red that had been on display in the midst of the massacre. Fists were clenched at his side. Cas himself was still seated at the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, chin in his palms, deep blue eyes staring mournfully at the human before him. 

He wanted to tell Dean it would be okay, just as he had whispered those sweet false reassurances to Claire as she had clung to him. But he couldn’t. Because as much as he wanted to reassure Dean and be his comfort, there was too strong a part of him that couldn’t face the wrong the man had done. 

And it was hypocritical, Cas knew. Both Cas and Sam had done far worse in their moments of weakness and darkness, had involved hundreds of innocents in their mistakes rather than just the death of a few, evil men. But as much as Cas thought that, it didn’t change the fact that Dean had been the reason human lives had been snuffed out. It didn’t alter the truth that the Righteous Man that he had raised from Hell, had Hell inside of him now and was completely capable of murdering those that got too far underneath his skin. 

“Cas,” Dean started, and Cas could hear the tension in the gruff voice. The pain was so obvious, as well as the guilt. There was also a sense of defeat that Cas hated to hear. When Cas couldn’t bring himself to say anything, Dean tried again. “I just...I just wanted to check on you.” 

Cas nodded, but still couldn’t talk. 

How much did Cas want to tell Dean things weren’t entirely his fault. That the Mark was powerful and ancient, and it was a testimony to Dean’s moral strength that he had withstood it influence as well as he did. It wouldn't feel right to say such things, though. Not when such horrors had been the result of that influence.

“Cas?” Again, the hunter’s voice was broken. Cas couldn’t stand it, but he couldn't’ bring himself to do anything to try and mend it. “Any, um, any word from Claire?” Green eyes shifted down.

“No.” It was too curt a reply, Cas knew, but it was all that he could do. 

There was silence again, but the staring discontinued. “Look, Cas, I…”

“Dean,” It was then Cas had to stop the hunter. As much Cas didn’t want to talk, he certainly didn’t think he could listen to Dean speak of the events. “I do not wish to discuss such things.”

“Right.” Despite Cas’ clear statement of disinterest in companion, Dean made no move to leave. Instead, he tried to continue talking, though he did stay away from topics of Claire and of Dean’s murder. “So, uh, is there, uh, anything you, uh, need?”  
Cas had never heard Dean stutter so much.

“I suppose alcohol is the general answer.” The two days before he had stayed in the room as Sam had suggested, because Sam tended to be the more reasonable and healthy brother. However, that obviously wasn’t working. The turmoil was still raging inside of him, and it was affecting him from doing his job. He hadn’t been out to do a case. He hadn’t chased down Claire (though he wouldn’t). He wasn’t aiding Dean. There obviously needed to be something more drastic to kick Cas back into action. 

Cas had been sure that such an answer would kick Dean into action, but instead, the hunter seemed hesitant to comply. “Are you that’s the best answer?”

“Are you really one to judge?”  
“Point taken.” Dean sighed heavily. Cas refused to take back his harsh retort. Then, before anything was said, Dean left. 

His departure did nothing to Cas’ emotional state. Maybe a part of him was disappointed that Dean did nothing to try and alleviate Cas’ guilt and worry and all those other horrible, pesky human emotions. Not that his presence would have done anything to help. It was probably best that the hunter had left anyways, Cas had resigned himself. 

Only a few minutes later, Dean returned, a 24 pack of beer in his arms. Once back in Cas’ room, Dean shut his door gently, supposedly to not alert Sam of endorsing drinking as a way of coping, then dropped the alcohol at Cas’ feet. “I figured you needed a lot since the last time you got drunk as an angel, you had to drink an entire liquor store.”

There was no speaking after that. Just drinking. Beer after beer. After beer after beer. 

**********

Castiel wasn’t sure how long it had been since the first beer had been finished. All he knew was that his head was fuzzy, the room was slightly off kilter, everything that had been set at his feet was empty along with a whiskey bottle that Dean had brought in sometimes during the evening, and the pain that had been nestled so profoundly in his chest had numbed. Somewhere during the drinking escapes, Cas had slide off the bed and now found himself on the floor, slouched over the edge. His door was slightly ajar, a thin sliver open to reveal the lights from the hall, and could barely make out whispers. 

“What were you thinking Dean?” In his buzzing mind, Cas knew for sure that was Sam was speaking.

Gruffly, Dean answered as if it wasn’t that big of a deal. “He wanted alcohol.”

“And so you got him drunk?”

“He’s a grown ass man,” Dean scoffed. “Angle. Whatever. He wanted alcohol. I got him alcohol.”

“And didn’t think of the consequences?”  
“What consequences? Consequences worse than what’s been done?”  
“After what happened, you really think either one of you need to be drinking away your problems. Dammit, Dean. I thought you’d be more careful after…” Sam cut himself off, suddenly realizing what he was saying and unable to take it back. 

As expected, Dean didn’t take it well. “After I massacred a group of men? LIke I need a reminder. And just so you know, I was being careful, Bitch. I wasn’t drinking. I was just watching over Cas.” 

Sam wasn’t even given the chance to try and make up for his brutal comment.

Still fuzzy and weak, Cas was aware that door was being shut. The angel closed his eyes, thinking Dean had stormed off to his own room, and Cas was alone to enjoy the numbness alone. What actually had happened, however, was that Dean had closed the door with him inside. He could feel the hunter’s body lower itself next to him, keeping enough distance that their skin wouldn’t touch, but close enough that if Cas turned his head just slightly, he could lay it on Dean’s lap. 

Which is what the drunk angel ended up doing. 

More unexpectedly than the fact that Dean had 1.) not had any alcohol during Cas’ own binge, and 2.) had decided to stay with Cas longer still, were the calloused fingers that gently brushed back dark hair from his forehead. 

“I’m sorry Cas.” 

Cas was barely hold on to consciousness. Though the borrowed grace had allowed him to drink much more alcohol than a normal human, as much as he had inhaled was enough to drained his energy. To properly heal himself of liver damage and a headache later, Cas would need rest. Generally, Cas hadn’t favored the aspect of sleeping, finding it one of the more frightening fundamentals of human life, but it was easy and soothing with his cheek against Dean’s jean and Dean’s fingers through his hair. 

“I’m so sorry man.”

Simultaneously, Cas wanted to tell Dean that it wasn’t his fault while also wanting to tell him that nothing could be fixed. As much as the alcohol might have loosened his ability to retain control of his words, he was now too out of to even form words.

“I need this Mark off of me. Wish I could just cut it off, man. I can’t,” something wet hit Cas’ forehead, but he couldn’t imagine what would have been the cause, “I can’t do this anymore. It’s too much. I can’t have any more blood on my hands. I can’t be the reason why you lock yourself in a room, feeling guilty about one of my mistakes.” 

More drops of salt water fell onto Cas, but all the angel could do was scrunch his face in slight irritation. 

  
  
  
  



	20. Chapter 20

Castiel woke up on the bed with his head comfortably placed upon a pillow, a comforter providing an unnecessary warmth. The effects of the copious amounts of alcohol that had been consumed were long past gone, leaving Cas with the easy recollection of the previous evening, at least the part he was conscious for. He pushed the comforter off and sat up in deep concern. His behavior the evening before had been unacceptable, especially concerning everything that was going on around him at the moment. What right did he have to drown himself in alcohol when Claire was out there somewhere in who knew what type of danger, and Dean was suffering from the bloodshed that the Mark had pushed him into?

Hating himself, Cas stood and with an undefined purpose walked out of the room. The bunker was quiet as he headed downstairs and into the dining room. No one was there, so he made a beeline for the kitchen, where there was still no one present, to make coffee. On the fridge door Sam had left a note that stated he was on his morning run and return shortly. Cas couldn’t wait for his return and to get back to doing something proactive and productive. 

Sipping the coffee black from a coffee cup that he had randomly found in the cupboards that said ‘I don’t need sugar because I’m sweet enough’, Cas walked through the lower level of the bunker in search of Dean. Though the Winchesters did try and relax a little bit more when at the bunker, Cas highly doubted that Dean had actually gotten any sleep the last few nights. In true Winchester style, Dean probably spent the first night or so angrily destroying belongings, and then, when out of ammo, was too consumed by guilt and nightmares to get any rest. Hoping to fix some of his more recent wrongs of unrightfully abandoning Dean in his time of need, Cas felt obligated to search the hunter out. 

He was nowhere to be seen in the library or the dungeon, so he went to the garage to see if Dean was seeking comfort in the classic cars, but still there was no sign of him. So, Cas went to Dean’s room, the other probably place Dean would be hold up in, and knocked calmly on the door. No answer came. “Dean?” He tried again. Still, nothing. Hoping that his intrusion wouldn’t set the hunter off too much, Cas slowly opened the door to see the state he was in, but found an empty room with a bed that had been neatly made. Now just a little worried about the hunter’s whereabouts, Cas called out loudly through the halls. “Dean?”

He was pulled out his phone and called Sam, only to get the voicemail. “Sam? Please pick up. Where is Dean?” Hoping to be called back soon, he called out for his friend again, even louder this time. 

Then it hit him. That silent prayer of longing that he hadn’t felt for so long, the one that called out to him in search of comfort or guidance. Cas knew for a fact that Dean didn’t know he sometimes prayed accidently to Cas through the longingness that bloomed inside his chest, because the angel knew that once it was discovered Dean would most likely try even harder to control his emotional responses. This unspoken form of prayer, then, was not too often shown to have too much of an effect on Cas, not wanting to make Dean suspicious. However, there were times when the longing was so strong that Cas either had flown to his side (back when he had his precious wings), or called the hunter to just “check up” on him. 

At the moment, he used that silent prayer of longing to hurriedly rush to Dean’s side. It led him to the upstairs restroom far past the bedrooms. “Dean?” He tried to call outside the door, straining his hearing to see if anything could be made out from inside. The shower was on, but that was all Cas could make out. He turned the doorknob, but found it lock. “Dean?” When the second call was ignored, Cas stepped back a little and then kicked it in, grateful when the hinges broke, if not slightly regretting the fact that he broke something inside the Winchesters’ home. 

Without any sense of modesty, Cas immediately pulled back the curtains, readying himself to receive all of the hunter’s fury as long as his worry was set at ease. When the curtains were pulled back to reveal Dean, Cas wished it had been fury he’d been greeted with.

“Oh, Dean,” Cas quickly turned off the water and sunk to his knees beside the tub. 

Dean was sitting with his knees pressed against his chest, head buried in between, his back against the cold and wet tiles. He was shaking violently and there was blood flowing into the drain. When Cas used his grace to sense the damage done and heal whatever had been so obviously self-inflicted, he found that nothing was wrong. Whatever Dean had done to himself had already been healed by the Mark. 

“Dean,” Cas whispered, reaching out to touch Dean’s face, and try to coax him into lifting his head. “Talk to me.”

“I’m so sorry,” the broken voice kept repeating the words, much like he had while carding his own fingers through Cas’ hair only hours before. Cas’ chest tightened at the thought that the hunter had been comforting him when he was so obviously broken. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” It was a mantra that wouldn’t stop now that he had started.

“Dean, please, let’s get you out of the shower.” The angel didn’t know what to say that would alleviate Dean’s pain, but was under the strong impression that sitting naked in the shower filled with blood certainly wasn’t going to help. He reached out to grab Dean’s biceps to help him stand, and was thankful that Dean complied. Grabbing the towel at his left, he started drying Dean, unfazed by his current state of undress. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Now that his head was no longer buried between his knees, Cas could clearly see the stream of tears cascading down. “I’m sorry.”

“We’re going to find a way to get rid of the Mark, Dean,” Cas promised with all his grace and heart. 

The words seemed to break Dean out of his mantra, but it was by no means an improvement. He was shaking his head. “Even if we did,” he cried, “it wouldn’t change what I’ve done.” A sob racked through his body and suddenly Cas was being pressed up against, the hunter’s arms clinging to the angel’s shirt and pressing his face into the crook of the angel’s neck. 

Unused to such behavior from the eldest Winchester, Cas hesitantly patted his friend’s back soothingly. He had seen parents do the same motion to small children when they were bursting into tears, and hoped it would have the same effect on Dean. Instead, it seemed to only increase the sobs, and Dean’s body was once again shaking violently. Unsure of how to proceed but knowing he had to do something, Cas wrapped his arms around Dean’s midsection, and in a single, quick movement, picked Dean up so he was being carried fireman style. 

In that moment Cas wished more than anything that Dean would protest against the action loudly, demanding to be put down this instant, because what Dean’s actual reaction instead was one more stab into his heart. Dean’s arms moved to wrap themselves around Cas’ neck as the tears and snot were pressed more firmly into his collarbone. Cas tightened his grip on the hunter as he walked to his room. Gently, he placed the hunter in the middle of his bed, joining his side instantly. Like a small, traumatized child, Dean arranged himself to seek further comfort from the body next to him, entangling his legs between Cas’, an arm around Cas’ waist, and pressing his cheek into Cas’s strong chest. He was back to muttering “I’m sorry.”

As soft as he could, trying to rid his voice of its usual gravel, Cas tried to placate him as best as he could. “It wasn’t you, Dean. It was the Mark. And we’ll get rid of it. I promise you, Dean. We will get rid of this curse, and you’ll be you again.” 

Dean shook his head against Cas’ chest. “Can’t rid of it.”

“We’ll find a way.” Because if they couldn’t, Cas knew, everything would be lost. If Dean lost himself to the Mark completely with absolutely no way to return, there was no way Cas or Sam would be able to keep going. They had to fix Dean, because Dean was the only thing that kept them striving forward.

“I tried,” Dean sobbed. “I tried, and it won’t let me get rid of it.”

Cas held Dean tightly. He knew what Dean had tried, why there had been blood in the shower. Hating himself for what the Mark had urged him to do, for the blood that the Mark made Dean crave, Dean had tried to cut that part of him off. The Mark was resilient, though, and every cut that was made in the intention to destroy it had instantly been healed by the curse itself. 

“There’s another way.” Cas spoke in Dean’s hair. “We’ll find another way.” His shirt was drenched in tears, but Cas didn’t care. All he cared about was the body clinging to him, just as Claire had clung to him four days past. “I’m going to save you. I promise.”

 


	21. Chapter 21

When Sam returned from his jog, the door to Dean’s room was still open because the hunter subconscious would not allow himself to detangle from the angel. Cas had used some more of his grace to make Dean fall into a fitful sleep. He knew the only reason he had able to despite the Mark was because Dean had worn himself out trying to cut the curse off and being more expressing more emotion than he would ever be comfortable about. Cas also knew that the sleep wouldn’t be too restful, the body half on top of him too consumed by pain to do so, but any sleep was better than none. 

“What happened?” Sam was wide-eyed and pale at the sight of his brother seeking subconscious comfort from the body beneath him. Gratefully, Cas had grabbed the edge of the comforter from Dean’s bed to make Dean more presentable, not because his nakedness would have necessarily bothered Cas or Sam, but because Dean would wake up hating himself even more for being revealed in such a manner. 

Cas didn’t want to leave Dean’s side, but he also didn’t want to be talking above Dean’s head. Regrettably, Cas gently positioned Dean off of him so he could move off the bed and speak to Sam out in the hall quietly. “He tried to cut the Mark off of him while he was in the shower.”

“What?” Sam’s voice was still barely a whisper, but it was frantic. “How...why…”

“I think you know why.” 

Brown eyes lowered in shame, but mostly out of panicked anger. Trying to a calming breath - and failing - he asked, “How bad is it?”

“There is no physical damage,” Cas informed him soothingly. A part of him was irritated that all he seemed capable of doing these days was providing meaningless words of comfort. “But mentally, emotionally...things are bad Sam.”

“Yea, I know. I mean, it’s understandable after what he did...that he would break down like this, but still….”

“It’s worrisome,” Cas finished. Sam looked just as defeated as Cas felt, knowing there was nothing there he could do to help his brother in his time of need. Not unless he miraculously found a cure. “Dean has come out of worse.”

“Yea, I guess you’re right.” But it didn’t seem to lift Sam’s spirit up. He shook his raggedly hair in frustration. “I should never had left this morning.”

Cas frowned. “You only left for a while. And it was for your customary jog.” He didn’t want Sam to blame himself for the state Dean was in. Though it was terrible and regrettable, Dean himself had put himself in that state. “Jogging is what helps you de-stress,” Cas tried to explain to the younger brother, trying to ease his mind, “and it helps you be a better you.”

“But…”

“No buts, Sam Winchester.” Like Dean, when Cas used his “angel voice”, Sam tended to freeze for just a moment and then comply with whatever the angel was demanding. “Things are bleak. Dean is not well. But that does not mean every bad thing that happens to your brother is on your fault, or that it is on your shoulders.” 

At the angel’s words, Sam’s shoulders sagged. The tension that had been so strong in his frantic state of concern came undone, but it wasn’t done in a positive way. Instead, the tension was loosened due to exhaustion and sense of uselessness. “I should have been here,” he tried to quietly argue, shaking his head sadly. “I knew Dean wasn’t in a good state after what happened. I knew you were either, especially after last night.” 

“I am sorry that I allowed myself to…”

Before he could even finish his frustrated apology, Sam was cutting him off with a strong hand on the shoulder. “It’s not your fault. I understand why you might have needed to take a break like you did.” Though it wasn’t his usual way of dealing with things, was left unsaid. “But I should have known better than to leave this morning, even if it was just for a while.”

“Sam, we are fine.” Which was a complete lie, but really, when were any of them actually fine? “We are going to be fine.” 

“How?” There was anger in his whispered tone now. His fists were beginning to clench, only to unclench at his sides a second later. “How is anything ever going to be fine?” He asked with unshed tears stuck in his throat. “I failed. I promised him I was going to cure him, and I failed. He killed those people in cold blood, Cas, and I couldn’t do a thing about it. I couldn’t help him while he screamed at night.” Those nights that Cas had been held up in his room, too consumed in his own pain and fear. “I couldn’t calm him down.” Now tears were beginning to form at the corner of brown eyes. “There’s nothing I can do. I don’t know how to keep doing this? How I can…”

“Sam,” Cas took both of his hands to lay upon the Winchester. His voice was stern, but caring. “We will get through this.” That needed to be said, Cas thought. No matter if it was false, that statement was the only thing that would keep any of them going. “I think maybe you need to take a break as well,” he suggested calmly. “These past few days have been stressful on you, and I believe it’s worn you thin.”

Sam gave out a bitter chuckle. “Cas. I think out of the three of us, I’ve had the least stressful week.”

“Which is not saying much. You shouldn’t compare your pain to others. Pain is still pain. Stress is still stress.”

For a moment Sam just stared at the floor, taking in the angel’s words but not wanting to accept them. The angel was staring at him intently, though - just as intently as he stared at Dean - and it was hard to argue with him. No wonder Dean got uncomfortable when Cas stared at him, or seemed to be more complainant with the angel around.  

It took all of Sam’s will to talk back. “I can’t take a break.”

“What good will you be if you continue like this?”

“More good than if I take a break.” Sam took a deep breath. “I can’t, Cas. I’ve been taking advantage of you. I can’t just keep letting you take care of everything.”

Cas tilted his head. “You have not been taking advantage of me.” He sighed. “Go. Spend time with the woman you have been seeing as of late.” A dark blush crossed Sam’s face and Cas smiled slightly. The woman had probably been a secret, but in such matters like romance, Sam wasn’t all that subtle. “I will stay here with Dean.”

Despite Cas’ stern voice, his understanding of Sam’s exhaustion, and reasonable explanations, Sam still was iffy about accepting. “Are you sure?” 

“Of course. I always enjoy spending time with Dean.” Sam raised a single eyebrow. “Go.” Cas was a little more forceful. He wanted to help Sam, wanting him to get some rest and take care of himself, but he also wanted to return to Dean’s side and Sam’s continuous arguments was keeping him from doing so. “I have a plan to help Dean get back to his normal self.” Before too much hope could enter Sam’s eyes, Cas had to quickly explain, “Not completely himself. It won’t get rid of the Mark. But I do believe I might have an idea of how to ease the bloodlust that the Mark creates.”

“That’s great, Cas. What is it?”

“It’s difficult to explain.” It really wasn’t, actually, but Cas didn’t want Sam to demote his idea before it could ever be put into motion. He knew secrets were wrong, but the idea that had begun to form while holding onto the hunter wasn’t an unorthodox method and, if Dean agreed to try it, probably wasn’t something he’d want his little brother to know about anyways. “But it would work best if you weren’t here.” 

Suspicion began to creep up, and Cas berated himself for stating it the way he did. The Winchesters were always warning him that his awkwardness would continue to put him at a disadvantage. 

“It is nothing dire,” Cas assured. “It is only that it might be something that Dean himself would be uncomfortable with sharing, and I do not want to overstep my boundaries any more than I already have.”

Realization slowly began to dawn upon Sam, though Cas wasn’t sure how Sam would come to the truth on his own. “Right. I understand.” He sighed heavily, but at least a little more relaxed than when he had first spotted Dean cuddled up against the angel. “Maybe I will go and see Marine. Take a small break.” He still seemed unsure, but his excuses had run out. On top of that, if Cas could help Dean even just a little, then things would start to be okay. At least, that’s what Sam had to hold onto. “But you call as soon as something comes up. Any changes, whether it turns bad or improves. Or if you need even a little bit of help.”

“Yes, Sam. I will call you if needed.” He shoved the younger Winchester gently to prompt him to leave. “Go. Don’t come back until the tomorrow morning. You better be well-rested.”

Sam smiled cheekily. “Yes Mom.”  
“I am not your mother, Sam.”

“Yea, yea.” He finally started to walk away, waving his goodbye. “See you tomorrow. Tell Dean to call me or text me when he wakes up.”

“Of course.”

With that being said, Cas returned dutifully back to Dean’s side. Thankfully, Dean was still asleep. Unfortunately, he was tossing and turning, clutching at his pillow desperately, groaning in despair. Disheartened by the sight, Cas laid himself on the bed behind Dean, wrapping his arm around the hunter’s body to pull him in closer. He would have used his grace to once again alter whatever nightmares were plaguing him. However, Cas had used a lot of his grace in past few hours, deflecting the effects of alcohol, easing Dean’s physical state, putting him to sleep, and as exhausted as Cas had been these past few days emotionally, it would take awhile for him to recharge enough to do any extensive “mojo”. For now, Cas would just hold on to Dean, comforting him by any means possible. 

In response, Dean turned to his other side, burying his head against Cas’ chest, his breathing slowing immensely as he snuggled against the angel’s neck. 


	22. Chapter 22

Dean was hazy when he began to wake up, even more so than he usually was. At first, he had the vague, fuzzy thought that it was a hangover, until he remembered that he hadn’t actually had any alcohol last night. He’d been too focused on making sure Cas was okay as he downed one after another. 

Gradually, he began to piece together everything.

One, he was naked. This was unusual, because unless there had been sex involved, he didn’t go to bed without something on him. Thankfully, he was covered by a blanket, and was actually quite comfortable. 

Two, he was still exhausted despite the fact that he was sure he’d just slept more hours than his norm. Emotionally drained, but even the thought of emotions made Dean want to scoff. 

Three, his head was on something firm. Definitely not his pillow. 

Four, and now his mind was starting to reorganize itself properly, he was beginning to remember what had happened. He had gone to check up on Cas, because as much as he had wanted to torment himself for what he had done, he knew the angel was suffering and it had been because of him. In true Winchester style, Cas wasn’t in the mood to talk, and instead he’d asked for alcohol, of which he’d gone a little overboard. Though, that was to be excepted. Last time Cas had felt defeated and lost, he’d downed an entire liquor store, so…. A part of Dean had thought that once Cas got drunk, or even buzzed, that feelings would start to be expressed. However, Cas was even more stoic than Dean, and nothing escaped his lips during that time. What had been expressed was expressed silently through the slight change in Cas, the sadness that crept onto him, the anger that he tried to retain. It broke Dean to see Cas like that, and to know he was the one who had caused that damage. 

When Cas had fallen asleep in Dean’s lap, Dean couldn’t stand it anymore. Holding on to a person he cared about so much, who had been in such pain because of him, was suffocating him. Gently, Dean propped Cas up so he could easily stand with Cas in his arms. Just as he used to do for his little brother when he’d have nightmares, Dean laid Cas out on his bed and tucked him in. 

He’d gone straight to his room after that, but knew he wouldn’t be getting any sleep. It was already 3 in the morning. Dean decided he’d just listen to his music until it was time to start his day. If he tried to lay down and get some rest, he’d only be plagued by the darkness that now lived inside of him. As the early morning wore on, classic rock pounding in his eardrums, his self-hatred turned to an angry restlessness and he could feel the blood rush towards the Mark. It was a vicious cycle of bloodlust, self-hatred, depression. By the time he could hear Sam starting to get ready for his morning jog, Dean couldn’t handle it anymore. Gripping tight onto his forearm, wishing he had the strength to just rip it off, he went to take a shower.

At first, he had thought the shower was to calm himself down. A good shower would do him good, but just like most things in his life now, no good came from it. Not long after the heated water began to hit his skin, turning it raw, his thoughts became self-destructive. Everything he had done recently had been because of the Mark. It was the Mark that was turning him into a monster. It was the Mark that was taking his natural abilities and personalities and twisting them into something so much darker than they already were. Therefore, the Mark had to be destroyed. 

Hatred and rage consuming him, he grabbed his razor from the edge of the tub, broke it, and pulled out the small blade. With precision, he cut into his arm right above the scar. He cut dig with every intention of cutting it out. But damn curse wouldn’t let him! As soon as his blade sunk into his skin, the Mark seemed to realize what was trying to be done, and Dean was instantly healed. He tried to press the blade deeper, unwilling to let up, but the Mark pushed the blade out of the open and deep wound and closed everything again. 

Blood filled the tub. Angry tears blurring his vision, he watched his blood wash away into the drain. As the water began to cool slightly, he fell back, curling into himself. 

He wasn’t sure how long he had stayed in that position, but he did know that it was Cas that found him. Dean wanted to groan in embarrassment. He hated that he had been so weak and had allowed Cas to find him in that vulnerable state. There was a small part of him, though, that was grateful that it had been Cas. 

He vaguely remembered Cas picking him up (another bout of embarrassment) and had carried him to his bed. 

“Dean?” The angel’s voice came from right above his head, a soft whisper into his hair. That was when Dean came into full consciousness and bolted upright. Lying partly underneath him was Castiel, Angel of the Lord. It was only because of his nakedness that Dean didn’t flee the bed in terror, wrapping himself instead with the blanket, on his knees, facing Cas with heat rushing into his face. “How was your sleep?” 

“Fine.” 

“Dean…”

“It was sleep, Cas. What are you doing here?”

“You needed comfort.” Dean blushed even darker. “Sam went out for the day to spend some time with the woman he has been seeing.” Dean nodded uncomfortable. “I was the one that told him he needed the break. He was wearing himself out trying to look out for both of us.”

“Right.” Dean really hated himself. Why was he causing problems even when the Mark wasn’t influencing him to kill and destroy? Why was he causing damage to his loved ones when he was just Dean Winchester? 

Cas seemed to understand where Dean’s thoughts were taking him, because a warm hand reached out to his shoulder. “It is nothing you should torment yourself over. At least not the part about Sam.” Because Cas knew very well he deserved every minute of torment over other things. “I just thought Sam could take a break for awhile. While he’s gone, you and me can look after one another.”

Again, Dean blushed uncontrollably. While Dean was busy trying to gather his wits, Cas stood regally. 

“While you dress, I will gather food.” The angel reached for the door. “Please come down as soon as you are done getting dressed. Do not stay locked in your room scolding yourself.” Dean scowled and glowered, but the threatening aspect was lost in the redness of his face. 

When the door closed, Dean dropped the rest of his body onto the bed, mortified. He couldn’t believe he’d just slept on top of the angel...naked. It was a strange sensation to wake up to the angel so close to him, practically breathing into his hair, and it felt..... No! Dean wouldn’t think about how anything felt. He wasn’t in any state to be thinking of how things were ‘feeling’. He pushed himself off the bed, shaking his head. How could he let himself lose his self-control so much that he wound up naked in bed with his best friend? 

Because Dean had always thought he’d wake up naked in bed with the angel after….. No! Dean hurriedly pulled on whatever clothes were nearest. Not thinking about any of that. 

Seeming to try and aid him in his desires to keep thoughts of ‘naked’, ‘him and Cas’, ‘bed’ out of his mind, the Mark reared its ugly head.  _ Better to lose yourself control in those terms, rather than losing self-control like you did a couple of days ago. _

And no! Dean screamed at himself mentally. He wasn’t going there either. 

So, taking a deep breath, Dean tried to make himself presentable enough to go downstairs. As he strolled down the hallway and down the stairs, he eased himself into his usual dissembling confidence. He may have been vulnerable this morning and caught in the act, but that didn’t mean anything! He strutted to the dining room. He was Dean Winchester. He could repress Hell itself, and he would very well do that very thing right now.

Unfortunately, in the dining room was Cas. And Cas was Cas, which meant Cas knew Dean a little too well. As Cas put down a plate of slightly burnt toast with peanut butter and jelly, along with a glass of milk, he studied Dean critically. “Sit.” Dean did as he was told, but not because Cas was the boss of him or anything. He only listened because he was hungry. “You’ve been scolding yourself.” There was disappointment and irritation laced in his deep, gruff voice. 

Dean looked up. “You can’t tell that just by looking at me,” he tried to deny, but then shut his mouth promptly. Cas was an angel, after all, and could read his mind if he wanted to. 

“It’s written on your face,” Cas explained seriously. He stared intently at Dean as the hunter tried to eat his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He really didn’t want to his this conversation...ever. “I told you not to.”

That caused an accidental bitter chuckle from Dean. “Easier said than done.”

Deep blue eyes softened. Though looks like that from the angel always sent a wave of contentment throughout Dean’s body, he couldn’t help but also be a little unsettled. The angel was too merciful to him, too kind, too everything. Thankfully, Cas didn’t speak any more as Dean finished his food, and Dean could almost pretend he was alone with his depressing thoughts.

When he was finished though, including the damn milk, Cas made his presence obvious again. Taking the plate and glass from Dean’s grasp, Cas stood too close to comfort with a serious expression. “Dean, I think I have a way to repress some of the effects the Mark is having on you. If you’re willing to try.”

 


	23. Chapter 23

Castiel and Dean ended up in the gym, staring at one another, waiting for the other to make a move. Cas could tell that Dean was uncertain and hesitant to comply with the angel’s suggestion, and needed to give the hunter time to compose himself. He was tense, clenching and unclenching his fists, glancing away for a brief second before trying to maintain eye contact with the angel, and his jaw set stubbornly. It was a miracle in itself, Cas tried to comfort himself, that Dean had even followed him down to the gym after hearing Cas’ brief explanation of what he thought would help. 

Then, in casual Dean Winchester manner, the hunter attempted to try and diffuse his own tension. “You know, I always keep forgetting we even have one of these.” He laughed shortly, but Cas could tell it escaped out of nervousness more than anything else.

“I have noticed that you rarely train,” Cas stated stoically.

Dean shrugged. “Exercise is more of Sam’s thing. I think I do enough running around and sweating on cases. And it’s not like I need to train now that I’m practically invincible.” Again, there was an escaped laugh, much more bitter than the first.

“You are not invincible.” There was a hard edge to Cas’ tone, but he gave Dean no chance to be analytical about it. “And I do not care if you exercise or not.” His blue eyes narrowed and stepped closer to the hunter, practically invading his safe. “Are you ready to begin?”

“Uh, yea, about that…” Dean was stalling, looking away from the blue stare awkwardly. “What do you expect me to do?” 

“Fight me,” Cas stated as if it were the simplest thing to understand. “The Mark wants a fight. It wants you to be high on adrenaline, and the fact that you aren’t always indulging in its needs, it has been making the Mark angrier.” He tried to explain in the simplest form there was. Honestly, Cas wasn’t entirely sure his plan would work, but even if it managed to relax Dean even a little and give him a reasonable mind when dealing with the curse, Cas would be pleased. What he knew right now was that Dean was denying himself many aspects of his personality (drinking heavily, hustling with random guys at the bar, hooking up with ‘chicks’), and it was enraging the Mark even more due to the stress it was creating within the hunter. 

Cas did understand the reason for Dean’s self-restraint. He didn’t want to accidently lose control and get hurt whatever stranger was near. He was keeping his distance from the joys of his life because he was too afraid of what the Mark would do to those desires. So, Cas had come up with a solution, forming when he sunk to his knees next a tub washing away blood and reevaluated as he allowed Dean to seek refuge on his chest. 

Dean needed to find an adrenaline spiked activity that didn’t pose the threat of losing control. Or, if he did lose control, that could withstand whatever a Mark influenced Dean might do. Hence, fighting Cas. He was, afterall, a celestial warrior who had been in the midst of heavenly and earthly warfare since the creation of the world. Though Dean was a cunning hunter and inhumanly strong with the Mark on his arm, Cas was much more skilled, could heal, and, if push came to shove, was positive of his ability to be physically stronger than Dean. 

Despite Cas’ reasoning, Dean was shaking his head. “I don’t want to fight you Cas.”

The angel tilted his head. “It won’t be a real fight.”

The hunter still shook his head with a soft huff. “No, Cas; I don’t want to fight you.”

They stared at one another intently. It was a battle of will, and while Dean had an amazing amount of willpower for a human, when Cas truly set his mind and heart to something, a mere human stood no chance. That had been proven more than enough times. True, each of those times brought terrible memories for Cas - taking in the souls Purgatory, staying in Purgatory to do penance, staying alive as a human even when hunted his his brothers and sisters. 

Without warning, Cas swung at Dean, hitting him square in the jaw. “What the hell Cas?” Dean yelled, taking angry steps back. He was rubbing his jaw, a dark gleam in his eyes. 

“You need to work out your aggression,” Cas state in monotone. 

“No,” Dean seethed. “What I need to do is  _ not _ to lose control.”

Cas stepped forward, his expression calm, but his posture threatening. Dean backed up to avoid any confrontation the angel would try to engage him in, but it was easy to see the fury quickly building. “Which would be great,” Cas commented dryly, “if you could learn to actually relax and be unaffected by stressful emotions. But you can’t. You have denied yourself your usual ways of ‘blowing off steam’’ complete with accurate quotation marks, “which will only make the fall out that more destructive.” As was seen a couple of days ago, but Cas wasn’t about to be spoken out loud. Most likely Dean was thinking about it anyways and hating himself.

“That’s ridiculous,” but Dean’s expression didn’t match his verbal claim. 

Seeing the hesitancy in the hunter, Cas charged. He went straight for his midsection, intending to push him to the ground. Dean grabbed at Cas’ back, trying halfheartedly keep the angel away. If Dean had allowed himself to give more of his strength, Cas knew he wouldn’t have been able to tackle him to the floor, but as it was, Dean fell quite easily. Irritated that Dean wasn’t engaging in the attack, Cas straddled Dean, pinning his arms above his head. With the clear upper-hand (because Dean wasn’t making any grand moves to turn the odds), Cas glowered at his charge. 

“Why won’t you fight?”

Cas could feel the anger boiling inside the man beneath him, could physically feel the frantic rising of his chest. Green eyes glared, but he still did nothing against the angel sitting on top of him. “Because I can’t.”

“I’ve seen you wrestle with Sam all the time.” Cas pointed out. He was positive that this would be a successful way to repress the curse of the Mark, but didn’t know how else to get Dean to agree to it other than assault first. It had been proved time and time again that Dean couldn’t stand talking about a problem, for he was more a man of action. Cas just wished he’d act now.

“I wouldn’t dare wrestle Sam now.” 

“Because you’re afraid you’d accidentally hurt him.” Cas understood that. “But that’s why I am saying that you should fight  _ me _ . I will not be so easily damaged.” For as damaged as Cas might have been, all those were internal rather than external that Dean was worried about. 

Dean strained against Cas’ hold on him, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy the angel. Sighing heavily, he practically growled, “Why are you so intent on fighting me?” Cas tilted his head. He was sure he had already explained his reasoning. The head tilt seemed to only frustrate the hunter only further. “You know what, forget it.” There was something in Dean’s voice that Cas didn’t understand, something more than just the fear of hurting a friendly opponent. “Let me go Cas. I’m not doing this.”

“But you agreed to try something,” Cas argued, refusing to let up. “This is something.” 

“Yea, something dumb.”

“It’s not dumb.”

“Dude, you’re sitting on top of me.” Cas realized that somewhere in their recent conversation Dean had lost most of his anger, or maybe it was the fact that Dean was trying to diffuse his anger. “Which, really, get off.”

“Fine.” When Cas didn’t get off immediately, Dean glared questionably. “If I do, what do you have in mind to repress the Mark?” Dean didn’t answer, because obviously no answer had been thought of. If it had been, they wouldn't have been here, Dean pinned beneath a pleading angel. 

Seconds passed and they stayed just as they were. Cas assumed Dean was trying to come up with a reasonable plan of action, since he was so opposed to Cas’ idea. However, instead of giving another smartass remark or a possible solution, Dean used a little bit more of his strength to push against Cas’ restraint of his. It wasn’t the strength provided by the Mark, but it was Dean’s natural, hunter strength, and Cas allowed himself to be overtaken. One moment Cas was staring into dark green eyes, and the moment, Dean had shifted their positions so he was straddling the angel.

Cas gave a small crooked smile at the surge of fight that had gone through Dean, a sign that he was taking Cas’ idea seriously.

Then, to his utter disappointment, Dean simply stood, leaving Cas on the ground. The hunter looked smug at his action, with a dark gleam in his expression, “Maybe you’re right about the adrenaline thing.” Dean agreed. Cas pushed himself up regally. “So let’s find a case. An old fashioned one. Just monsters. No Heaven, no hell, no messed up humans. Just pure, old fashion monsters.”

That would be fine, Cas thought, if only the Winchesters were known for being able to actually have simple, run-of-the-mill cases. However, it seemed like every case the Winchesters took, even if it was against ‘just’ a monster, presented some kind of emotional turmoil or other troubling situation to the mix. Nothing for them was ever simple enough to just leave it at ‘pure, old fashion monsters’. 

The look on Cas’ face most have shown some of what he was thinking because was shaking his head at Cas’ silent objections. “But I sure as hell don’t want to fight you or anyone else. I know you’re strong and could probably beat the crap out of me,” he gave a sardonic grin, “hell, you have beaten the crap out of me...multiple times.” He ignored Cas’ fallen expression, the look of utter regret and guilt. “But I’m still not going to do it.”


	24. Chapter 24

It had been three weeks since Cas had tried to convince Dean that one way to repress the rage of the Mark was to allow it a moment of aggression, specifically aggression towards Castiel himself. Cas had stayed one more day after his plan had been rejected, eager to continue the search for some clue to a cure and to help those in need. During the first two weeks Cas made sure to keep in constant contact with both brothers. His texts with Sam were detailed and sympathetic and inquiring. Whereas his texts with Dean were simple and bland. Cas would have felt disappointed at the lack of conversation with the eldest Winchester, but it wasn’t just the one word texts, and so what he was feeling was more like depression. Because, despite the lack of communication on Dean’s part, Cas could sense the silent prayers that the hunter was unintentional sending - the deep longing for the angel.

Years ago Cas gave little mind to these silent prayers of longing from the hunter. He knew that the hunter was lonely to begin with, and, during a time that he and Sam weren’t on the best of terms, Cas had been a substitute partner (at least in the subconscious mind of the hunter). Though Dean’s longing back then had been slightly distracting, it wasn’t something that Cas thought too troubling. To an Angel of the Lord, there were much dire things than loneliness. In those times of longing, Cas had once thought, at least Dean hadn’t been in any physical danger or in a position to endanger himself. Now, as an angel that had learned to feel more emotions than most celestial beings were even capable of and having been human for a time himself, he knew very well how much loneliness actually hurt. It distressed Cas even more to feel how lonely Dean was feeling, to know that Dean wanted Cas to come back, and think that he couldn’t speak those desire aloud. 

So, when Sam called sometime in the beginning of the third week that Cas had been gone to ask if he’d be feeling like going on a few cases with them, Cas readily agreed. He’d been trying to find Cain before Sam had called, but had found no leads as of yet. Mostly, he’d been searching and visiting ancient neutral creatures to find answers, and in the midst of that, helping those in need if he crossed their paths. Upon receiving the request to come back, Cas quickly got into his bumblebee car and headed straight for the bunker. Unfortunately, he couldn’t fly to their sides  (he would always miss his wings), but because he didn’t require food or water (as long as he didn’t exhaust too much of his borrowed grace) it could get to the bunker faster than if he were still human. In one and a half days he was be back with his Winchesters.

But being back didn’t seem to be that big of a deal. True, Sam was thankful for his company and made sure to have their “brotherly” talks in the late afternoon when Dean went to work on the cars. However, while Cas did appreciate the connection he and Sam now had, it wasn’t necessarily something that required Cas to be there. He was helping with research, but just like his own searches out in the world, they were coming up with nothing. A third pair of eyes was doing no help. There weren’t any cases they were taking, since Sam was delegating the more violent ones to other hunters nearby. And Dean, though he was civil enough, was distant. 

This was probably what made Cas restless the most. Castiel had come back because he had thought his ex-charges needed him. He had been willing to cease his own searches for Cain because he had thought he would have an essential part of this family unit. If this was all that there was, to be an extra pair of eyes to do dead-end research and to be ignored by his friend, then he’d be better off leaving again. Staying and doing nothing would drive him insane.

“Cas?” Sam came up from behind him in the library, setting down two sodas on the table. 

Cas turned to regard the youngest brother. “Hello Sam.”

There was something in the young man’s brown eyes that Cas couldn’t decipher, something akin to concern maybe. Cas tilted his head, waiting for him to speak what was on his mind. Carefully, Sam asked, “You doing okay?”

The angel’s head stayed in its tilted position, unsure as to what would prompt Sam to ask that in such a worrisome tone. “Yes, of course. It seems everything here is...maintaining.” Dean still had the curse, so Cas couldn't say everything was good, but Dean also hadn’t been raging or swirling downwards into depression or frustration so that was a positive. 

“Yea...” Sam didn’t seem too convinced of Cas’ words, though. “I guess it’s going well, considering.” Considering the fact that Dean had the Mark of Cain, had become a demon, had killed human beings. “To be honest, though, Dean’s been a little quiet.” Which, though it might seem like a good thing to most people, wasn’t that great of a sign when it came to Dean Winchester. Dean was only quiet when he was too lost in his own thoughts to be his obnoxious self. “Did something happen between the two of you?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because the last time we talked about Dean, you said you thought you had a way to repress the effect of the Mark, then all of a sudden you were leaving and Dean’s still being effected.”

The library was quiet for quite some time as both men stared at one another, one waiting for answers and the other deciding whether or not he should share what had happened. 

Seeming to understand what was going through Cas’ mind, Sam stated, “I thought we agreed to be open with one another. We talked about staying healthy and sane during these trials, and the only way that was going to happen was if we didn’t hold any burdens in.” Brown eyes got wide with sincerity, his signature ‘puppy dog eyes’. “You don’t have to tell me everything, but at least give me something so I can try and help both of you.”

It was the puppy dog eyes that did Cas in. Since losing his personal grace, he found he was more susceptible to such sights of sincerity and emotion. “I thought Dean would be able to control the Mark more if he were given an opportunity to expression controlled aggression.”

“Controlled aggression?” Sam asked. “There’s no way cases allow for ‘controlled aggression’. We’ve tried. After the simple cases were getting too much on Dean’s nerves, we tried for the hard cases, and he almost always does something just a little too drastic.” Like continuing to beat up an already defeated opponent or putting bullet after bullet into an already dead monster. “So, what exactly were you suggesting instead?” Rather than answer, Cas just stared at Sam. Rolling his eyes as if Cas were just as idiotic as the hunter in the garage, Sam scoffed, “You suggested that he fight you, didn’t you?” 

Cas didn’t like the tone that Sam was using on him. For one, it wasn’t a tone that should ever spoken to an angel, so much more powerful than this human standing before him. More than that, Cas didn’t want to be forced to see that he might have made a grave mistake. “Dean needs an outlet for the Mark’s rage,” Cas explained, reigning in his frustration at the younger brother. “And he continually refuses to allow himself to engage in any of his usual outlets.” Sam’s own irritation began to wind down, slightly unsettled by Cas’ tone. No matter how much time he spent with the angel, when Cas decided to show his strength and celestial heritage towards him, Sam felt a tinge of fear. “If he released his rage by engaging in a ‘friendly’ battle with me, things would have a better outcome. Despite the strength the mark offers him, he still isn’t at the point that he has more strength than me. I am still an angel.” 

“I know you are Cas,” Sam hurriedly replied. “It’s not you getting hurt that I’d be worried about if you and Dean actually through with that idea.” His tone was much softer this time around, without any sense of exasperation or irritation. 

Cas frowned. “I would not harm Dean.”

“I know that, Cas.” Sam smiled. “That’s also not what I’d be worried about.” When Cas narrowed his eyes questionably, Sam calmly explained, “I don’t think Dean would be able to possess fighting you. Even if it would be successful in repressing the Mark’s impact on Dean’s rage, I don’t think Dean could handle it mentally.”

“I do not understand.”

Sam sighed. “How many times have you fought with Dean? Physically?” 

Cas narrowed his eyes, partly out of not understanding the importance of the number, and party out of irritation that he’d be asked such a thing. It was true, just as Dean had mentioned off handedly during their brief session in the gym, that Cas had picked more than a couple of fights with Dean. He wasn’t proud of those time. In fact, those times were one of Cas’ lowest moments, right underneath letting out the Leviathans and being tricked into casting out his brethrens. 

“Out of all the times you have,” Sam tried to regain his attention, “how many times did Dean ever try to fight back?”

The sudden realization hit Cas hard. None.

Again, Sam sighed. This time it almost sounded like it was out of something much like pity. “I think you should go talk to Dean. Straighten things out between you.”

“How?” The angel had to wonder. “Dean isn’t the type to want to talk about things he would rather put out of his mind.” And Dean had made it obvious that he wanted to take out their last serious conversation out of his mind. 

“Well then, don’t bring up that conversation.” 

“But you just…”

“Just do whatever it is that you guys were doing before. That seemed to calm Dean down.” Blue eyes brightened a little at that statement. Cas couldn’t help but be pleased at the assertion that his presence had had a positive effect on Dean, even if he didn’t completely understand what Sam was speaking of. “Really.” Sam seemed to think Cas’ silence and still form meant Cas was in denial of his impact on the other hunter. “I swear every time you’re here and going to bars with Dean or watching movies with him, he’s so much easier to deal with.” Cas nodded. “So just go down to the garage and ask him to the bar or something. Or, you know what,” Sam’s eyes lit up, suddenly childishly excited, “why don’t you ask him go to the movies? Instead of watching a movie here, ask him to take you to a theatre.”

“Are you sure that will work? Dean has not been too receptive of me as of late.”

“Yea,” Sam was smiling widely now, the previous seriousness of their conversation seemingly forgotten. “I’m sure. Now go.”


	25. Chapter 25

When Castiel found himself in the garage of the bunker, he was beginning to doubt himself again. Though Sam meant well with his advice, and Cas knew the younger Winchester would never intentionally lead him astray, the angel had to rethink the suggestion that had been given. What if Sam was wrong, afterall? What if Dean truly wanted to keep his distance from Cas? Why would Dean even think to take Cas out to the movies after their last awkward conversation in which Cas had practically begged Dean to fight him?

 

It was times like these that Cas despised his progression into humanity’s sphere: flaws, thoughts, and emotions. He had spent billions upon billions year (longer than any human could possibly think of) being a stout soldier, stoic and strong. Though Naomi accused him of always being the one angel who had his chalice chipped from the very beginning, he had still been a powerful and confident Angel of the Lord. There may have been times in which he silently questioned the orders Zachariah and those like him would give, but he never doubted himself. He always believed that what he was doing was for the will of God, and that alone gave him the ability to go forwards without hesitancy. 

 

Even when Cas had begun to fall due to his choice to side with the Winchesters in the battle against fate, he had done so with something close to confidence. Yes, his faith had dwindled and yes, he had begun to doubt all that he had done before, but there was still a large part that still believed in himself. And if not himself, then at least in the mission that he had given everything up for. That’s just how Cas had been back then, giving it his all once the decision was made. 

 

Through his choices to continue to fight alongside the brothers, to bring Sam back from the Pit, to trying to convince the brothers and sisters he had left that free will was worth everything they had once had, to leading a civil war against Raphael, and finally to sucking in the souls of Purgatory; it had all been done with the impression that what he was doing was right. That didn't mean he had always liked what his choices were leading him to do, or the consequence as of those choices, but at the end of the day, he was confident in himself that he was doing what must be done. 

 

That was a confidence that had long since been diminished. After realizing the harm he had caused by swallowing the Leviathans, to being completely out of his mind, to having his free will manipulated by Naomi and then against by Megatron, there was little left of Cas that he could find himself to be confident about. His time of being human had only increased that self doubt, plagued by the intensity of emotions that humans had to deal with day in and day out. It was such a powerful emotion, this self loathing and self doubt, that it had carried into his very being even after he had regained grace.

 

And he hated that doubt. Hated that no matter what he did, he now did it while constantly questioning himself. Hated that he was more aware of his mistakes and the future mistakes he was imminently going to make. 

 

“What?” Dean’s husky voice broke him out of his long winded thoughts. “Finally got the memo that staring at me was creepy, so you’re going to stare at my car now?”

 

It was then that Cas realized that he had in fact been staring at the impala for quite some time. Enough time that he hadn’t even noticed when Dean had stopped working on the red polished car beside it. 

 

“I came down to ask you a question,” Cas stated in his usual monotone, though he was by no means being unemotional. 

 

Dean raised an eyebrow at Cas’ vague statement, waiting for him to ask the question that he had come down here to ask. However, Cas was still in the process of thinking his decisions through, and couldn't bring himself to ask out loud quite yet. The longer Cas stayed silent, the more annoyed Dean looked, and the more suspiciousness began to creep into his dark green eyes. “Well?” The hunter finally pressured, huffing and crossing his arms across his well-built chest. 

 

There was irritation in his tone, and just a hint of rage. For a second Cas wished he had never come down, because surely Dean was still angry about their last conversation, evident in the way he spoke to the angel. But then, before he had the chance to convince himself to head back up, he realized why such emotions were being inflected into Dean's voice. Cas was acting strangely, and Dean must have been worried that Cas was about to reopen the conversation they had had before about what could possibly derail the influence of the Mark.

 

“I was wondering if you would take me to the movies?”

 

The irritation and the rage immediately disappeared to be replaced by shock. “What?” 

 

“The movies. There is a place in which humans go to where movies play on a big screen and…”

 

“I know what you’re talking about.” Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m wondering why you’re asking. If you wanted to watch a movie, we could just watch it here. You know, like how we’ve been doing.”

 

Cas tilted his head. A part of him wanted to ask Dean whether not that would have changed the reaction presented. If Cas had come down to request he and Dean head back up to Dean’s room to watch one of the movies the brothers had collected, would the hunter have readily agreed? 

 

“If that is what you would prefer, I do not mind. I simply wish to be able to spend time with you, and I do enjoy watching the stories you humans create in media.”

 

Though the hunter may have been trying to resist the reaction, there was indeed a small smile that appeared at the edges of chapped lips. However, like most sincere emotions, especially just after a time of Dean thinking he had to be distant or moody, he tried to pretend like it had never occurred and asked grumpily, “Sam put you up to this?”

 

Again, Cas tilted his head, unsure as to why Dean would bring Sam into the conversation, or why Dean would seem upset that Sam would have come up with the idea. Not wanting the brothers to fight over something so frivolous, but wanting to be truthful, Cas answered slowly, “He had noticed that you and I seemed to be more distant than usual,” at that Dean’s eyes lowered and there was a small sneer that Cas tried not to take personal, “and suggested that we try to hang out like before, which have included watching movies in the past.”

 

Dean’s eyes lifted to stare at Cas as if to study his intentions. “And his suggestion was that instead of watching movies at home like we usually do, that we go out into public to do so?”

 

“I do not see the difference between either choice, only that at a theater the movie is larger. I was under the impression that that was a better to view movies?” The longer Dean questioned Cas’ choice of activity / outing, the more that Cas was wishing that he hadn't breached the boundaries of the garage. Dean had made it clear that Cas had already overstepped his boundary and that distance was required on the hunter’s side. If Cas was a true friend, then he would accept that and wait for Dean to come around.

 

There was another part of Cas though, that was more depressed than he was self-doubting of his decision. It occurred to him that this might go further than just Dean wanting to take time away from Cas for awhile, but more of him not wanting to be seen with him in public. That was what seemed to be the problem, after all, wasn’t it? Dean was irritated that Sam had suggested they go to the movie theater, outside of the bunker, rather than spend the time home where no one else could see them. 

 

It was a strange feeling, to have thoughts like that. Such thoughts would have never occurred to him before. In fact, Cas would have never cared before. Yet, here he was, standing before the hunter, having chest pains thinking that Dean was ashamed of him.

 

Quickly, before his chest could continue to tighten in on itself, Cas tried to fix his apparent mistakes. “Or we can go to a bar. Again,” he tried to sound sincere, but his voice might have still had its stoic edge, “I simply miss being able to spend time with you.”

 

All at once, Dean seemed to deflate in on himself. His features softened. “No, I’m sorry Cas, I was just surprised is all.” He took in a deep breath, trying to control himself it appeared. Uncharacteristically, Dean swept his hair back from forehead to the back of the nap of his neck. “Yea, Cas. We can go to the movies.”

 

Cas narrowed his eyes at Dean, a little suspicious of his change of attitude. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you to do anything you were uncomfortable in doing.” Cas meant it as a sincere question, but it probably came out sarcastic. 

 

Dean sighed. “I’m sure Cas.” He stepped away from the cars, moving towards the door. “What movie were you thinking of seeing?”

 

As Dean slowly made his way out of the garage, Cas dutifully followed, pleased and slightly confused at Dean’s sudden approval of the suggestion. “I am unsure of what movies would be playing.”

 

“I guess we can just wing it then.” 

 

“Wing it?”

 

“We’ll just go to the theater and see what’s playing close to the time. I’d say we could check online to see what’s playing, but where’s the fun in that?”

 

Cas followed at the hunter’s heel, eager to get out of the bunker and ‘hang out’ with his friend who had been trying to ignore him the past few weeks. “I do not think I understand.”

 

Green eyes glanced sideways at the angel who was, by then, standing side by side to the hunter. “It doesn't matter. Just let me get ready and then we’ll head out. Yea?”

 

“Of course.” Cas smiled brightly, and was overjoyed when Dean returned a small grin in return. 

 

As Dean went upstairs to take a shower and get ready, Cas went to find Sam to inform him of his success. Sam was still in the library, having found an encyclopedia on celestial markings, sitting in the lounge chair trying his best to relax. The second Cas came into the room, Sam set the book down to look up, a smile playing at his lips. “Well?”

 

“He agreed. He is upstairs getting ready.”

 

Sam’s smile widened. “See? What did I tell you?”

 

Cas tried to return the smile, but it wasn’t completely there. “I must admit, though, he didn’t seem completely thrilled with the idea in the beginning.” While he hated himself for doubting himself and no longer having the confidence to even do such simple things like speak with his friend, he knew that Sam would help him understand whatever it was that he had misunderstood. 

 

“What makes you think that?” Sam motioned for Cas to sit in the chair close to him, welcoming him into the brotherly conversation. 

 

“When I mentioned going out to the theaters he seemed irritated that I hadn’t suggested we stay here to watch movies. He seemed annoyed that you especially were the one to suggest us going out.”  Sam scoffed, but it in good nature, and Sam had to wonder what the younger Winchester was thinking of his brother’s attitude. Wanting to understand, he stated clearly, “I believe he is ashamed to be seen with me in public. Which I understand of course, looking back over everything that I have done. And how I may act with people. Dean has constantly told me that I still have ‘rusty people skills’ and that I am awkward.”

 

“He’s not ashamed of you,” Sam was ready to assure him. His confidence in the matter was of some comfort to the angel. 

 

“Then he seemed to not want to spend the amount of time with me,” Cas stated instead. Because, though Dean had agreed in the end, the hunter’s initial reactions bothered Cas. 

 

Still, Sam’s smile stayed. “Dean’s just weird. Just make sure you enjoy the movie. And don’t mention the conversation you had before.”

 

Cas nodded. 

 


	26. Chapter 26

It took Dean longer than usual to get ready, which worried Cas, because the entire time he was thinking how the hunter was probably trying to delay the time in which he had to spend time with Cas alone. Dean was good at that after all, avoiding difficult emotional situations for as long as possible. Thankfully, though, Dean did come down, looking as handsome as could be in clothes Cas wasn’t sure he had actually ever seen Dean ever wear before.

“Ready?” He asked when he got downstairs. He was standing in the entryway of the library, staring at his brother and Cas, leaning against the frame casually.

“Yes. Of course.” Cas stood. “Thank you for the talk Sam.” He nodded gratefully to the young man.

“Yea, thank you Sam,” Dean commented dryly, narrowing his eyes at his brother, earning himself a cheeky smile from the younger.

“No problem. Don’t stay out too late. And Dean,” Sam’s voice was filled with barely contained laughter, “be a gentleman.”

“Yea, yea, bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Dean walked straight towards the garage where Baby was waiting for him, not once glancing at Cas to see if he was following. Though, to be fair, it was probably obvious that the angel would follow the hunter without further ado. When Dean opened the driver’s side of the door, he did so without a word, his expression set to something unreadable. Cas quickly opened the passenger’s side and waited to be spoken to.

He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. It didn’t appear like Dean was angry, or even irritated. If he was, Cas knew that Dean would be raging on rather than staying quiet and going along with the idea to go to the movies with him. However, the silence did bother Cas, for it wasn’t the easy-going demeanor that Cas had been enjoying previously during their time alone. Silently, Cas sighed. It had been months since they had been alone together and Dean had been receptive of him. Not since before the Mark had led him to kill the men at the ranch.

It took forty minutes to reach the closest movie theater, and the entire ride there neither one had tried to start a conversation. Dean had turned on his music, of course, and it brought Cas some small joy that the hunter’s fingers were subtly thrumming the steering wheel in tune with the songs. This meant that though Dean had yet to come around to be fully comfortable around the angel again, he at least was willing to try, and wasn’t holding any grudges at the moment.

Dean stepped out of the car first, and Cas quickly followed suit, thinking he’d have to catch up with the hunter as he moved ahead to the lines that were forming. To his surprise, Dean had’t started off without him, but instead was patiently waiting at the head of the car until Cas was beside him. “What kind of movie are you interested in seeing?”

“What?”

Dean gave a bemused smile, but it was small and easily overlooked. “What type of movie? We didn't really stop to look what was playing before coming.” Cas said nothing. “You know what? You can just choose when you see the titles. Just please, no chick flick.”

When Cas gave his opinion, Dean had presented him with his usual eye roll and gruffly told him to wait by the door while he paid for tickets. Cas did as he was told. They went in just as quietly as they had spent the car ride in, and Dean made a beeline towards the popcorn, soda, and licorice. Cas waited patiently as Dean paid for everything, eyeing his surroundings in interest. Once everything was set, Dean handed off the popcorn and led the way to their theater, heading straight to the top corner.

“Would it not be best to sit in the middle?” Cas wondered when Dean had chosen to sit next to the wall. The angel was still standing, his head tilted.

“It’ll be fine,” Dean mumbled, not looking Cas in the eyes.

Though Cas wasn’t too intelligent when it came to understanding human motives, it didn’t take long sitting next to Dean in the far corner of the theater, to realize why Dean had done so. With the lights dimmed and couples filling up the spaces in the middle for the best view (as Cas had suspected), the two of them were mostly out of sight. Unless a couple purposefully tried to seek out their positions, they would be confidently veiled by the shadows of the wall and the darkness of the room. The thought saddened the angel, though he kept it to himself. If Dean was ashamed of him and didn't want to be seen with him in public, then it wasn’t Cas’ place to question.

The movie started, and Cas tried to ignore the saddened thoughts of Dean being ashamed of him to focus on the widescreen and surround sound. Fortunately, as Sam had suggested, watching a movie in the theatre, was much more thrilling than on a small TV in a confined room, which made it easy to become distracted.

It also didn’t take long to realize that despite Dean’s conditions, Cas had actually chosen a ‘chick flick’, a musical romance. A part of Cas felt slightly bad at having gone against the hunter’s wishes, but it was overpowered by his interest in the movie itself. It had an amusing plot with intriguing characters, and though it was mostly ridiculous, Cas found it enjoyable and lovable. So, though Dean’s discomfort wasn’t something that Cas usually allowed for if it could be helped, it was ignored for the pleasure of viewing.

In the beginning Dean acted as would be expected of him. He huffed at the ridiculous romantic moments, the cheesy pick up lines, and the over the top musical numbers. Cas was sure that if he turned to see Dean’s behavior he’d also see eye rolling, shaking of his head, and face palming. However, as the movie moved on, Dean’s disgruntled behavior lessened. Half way through, Cas was even sure that Dean had begun to relax, his muscles loosening, and every now and then a soft laugh escaped his lips.

When the movie ended Cas was in the sense of being teary-eyed (if he wasn’t Grace powered) and satisfied at the development of the movie. As the credits rolled, couples filed out, females clinging to their boyfriend’s arms, chattering about the movie. Seeing that Dean had yet to stand, Cas also stayed seated and turned to the hunter with an earnest expression. “Thank you for bring me here. It was an enjoyable experience.”

“Are you serious?” Out of a seemingly quiet reverie, Dean broke out into an outrage. “Can you call this an enjoyable experience?”

Cas frowned. “I understand that you are against anything that is ‘click flick’.” He sarcastically created the quotation marks around the word. “But that does not mean everyone is as narrow-minded as others.” The insult hadn't been on purpose, nor would it have been something that Cas would generally let slip, but Cas might have admitted that he was a little emotion at that moment. With having gone weeks of Dean being distant from him, sensing the depressed longing from the hunter and being able to do nothing about it, knowing that the hunter was ashamed of being out with him in public, and then to endure a movie as excellent and emotional as the one he had just seen...Cas was justifiably on edge.

Dean was apparently ignoring Cas’ snark and frustration. “What kind of romantic movie ends with them breaking up!”

The sudden rage at how the movie had ended rather than the romantic aspects of them movie itself, had Cas smiling. Trying to hide his surprise and amusement, Cas reasonably stated, “It started off with the main character singing about the break up. How did you not know that was how it would end?”

“Because it’s a movie!” Dean was throwing up his hands in exasperation for extra effect. “It’s supposed to end happily. It’s supposed to make you think there’s a chance it won’t end with a happily ever after, but then something happens out of nowhere, and everything’s fixed and everyone’s happy and in love. That’s why movies are so great, because they don’t follow the rules of our world. It doesn’t matter what shit happens, it’s supposed to be cleaned up at the end and everything’s good.” He stood, finally done with it all. “That’s just crap. Shitty movie.”

Despite Dean’s apparent rage as he stomped down the stairs to leave, Cas couldn’t help but smile because his reaction seemed so ridiculous to everything else that had been happening lately. It was lighthearted beneath the frustration. It was something simple and sincere. High off of that fact alone, Cas matched the hunter’s pace, hiding his content beneath his argument.

“I think it was a well produced movie. Went over simple human matters in a truthful human development, but with a musical twist to it. Quite creative and engaging.”

Dean ‘pff’ed, shaking his head. “Yea, yea. Creative. Engaging. Still, hate the ending.”

Cas gave a half smile, one of his rare true smiles that was usually only reserved from when speaking with Dean Winchester. Dean must have realized the significance of this, because even as he kept up his disgruntled attitude about the movie, he was smiling back with a brilliance in his eyes that Cas hadn’t seen in a long time.

“You think that, because for all your ‘macho crap’” he quoted from Sam, “you’re quite the romantic at heart. And you truly do wish for the happy endings.”

It was true, and Dean couldn’t very well deny it with any sense of conviction to the man that had gotten to know him better than even his brother in the past six years. Still, he tried with a small chuckle and casual eye roll. “There’s only one kind of happy ending that I’m always looking for in real life.”

Dean’s tone was the only hint to Cas that ‘happy ending’ had a different meaning than what they were just talking about. He tilted his head to signal his confusion, and received a suggestive raised eyebrow from the hunter. “Oh, you mean sex.”

Dean laughed. “Yea, I mean sex.”

“I think that’s just your “macho crap” talking again.” Cas stated in monotone, and was pleased to hear Dean’s laughter continue with even greater mirth.

“Hey!” Someone shouted a few feet away from them. “Why don’t you two ease up a little. Not everyone wants to witness any of that faggot stuff.”

The harshness in the young man’s voice, and the detractors terms that came from his mouth, infuriated Cas’. He hated when humans acted prejudice against one another, so against something they didn’t even care to take the time to understand. Yet, despite his righteous rage, it hadn’t occurred to the angel who was the receiver to these verbal attacks. Beside him Dean had stiffened in what Cas has assumed was the same righteous rage as himself, but unlike Cas, Dean obviously knew who the young man was talking about. Also unlike Cas, Dean seemed unwilling to do anything about it, which surprised the angel. He had thought Dean would always be willing to protect those that were being attacked, even from something like words, and was a little ashamed to see the hunter clench his jaw and try to keep walking. When he realized that Cas wasn’t beside him any longer, he spoke between clenched teeth. “Let’s just go.”

Cas narrowed his eyes at Dean, before turning his fury towards the man that had thought it his right to sprout his ignorance publically. The man must have been in his mid-twenties, was tall and muscular, but not as well built as either Cas or Dean. Next to him, was what Cas assumed to be the girlfriend, a pretty, petite brunette that was urging him to keep his mouth shut and leave them alone.

The man unwisely did not listen to the girl, and instead kept throwing his arrogant insults. “You’re going to Hell.”

“I suggest you do as your girlfriend suggests and keep your mouth shut,” Cas rose his voice to the degree that he had heard Dean term his “Commander Angelic” voice.

“Cas,” Dean hissed, freezing where he stood. “Let’s just go.”

“No, Dean. What gives you the right,” he glared at the pitiful young man, resisting the urge to show the power he had that would allow him to smite the fool, “to speak out against another. What justifies you…”

“Cas,” Dean was gripping Cas’ elbow now, and attempting to force him to leave. Cas resisted, and because he had angelic strength and Dean wasn’t using any of the strength the Mark would provide.

“I’d listen to your boyfriend, fag, before you get yourself hurt.”

It was then that Cas realized what Dean had known as soon as the man had shouted “hey!”. Those insults, those cruel words, that hatred, it was reserved for the two of them.

“Jason,” the girl was seething. “Leave them alone, and just take me home.”

“No,” Jason, as she had called him, stepped forwards. Apparently, his girlfriend’s pleas were actually spurring him on to do the opposite. He might have also been encouraged by a couple of other bystanders that were nodding in agreement, or those who were just staring in wait to see what would happen. “They want to queer, then learn to do it somewhere else. The rest of us are trying to have a nice, pleasant evening.”

“I do not see how another’s relationship affects your evening.” Cas deadpanned.

“Cas,” Dean was close to his limit of restraint, but there was something about the man moving towards them that was setting the angel off. It had been awhile since Cas had truly felt the need to smite a human being, but he was certainly feeling it now. “Just walk away and let’s go home.”

It was only because Cas could hear the strain in Dean’s voice and that he bothered to look at Dean’s forearm to see the Mark blazing bright, that Cas decided they did indeed need to walk away.

“Yea, that’s right. Listen to your bitch.”

The next second, Cas’ fist landed on Jason’s face, and the body lay unconscious on the tile floor. Everyone around them froze. “Let’s go.” Cas stated with finality, glaring at the man before setting his expression to stone and leading Dean out.

They reached the impala and were driving back to the bunker, tensions high. Cas was still furious, but along with that, worry was quickly seeping in. In the driver’s seat, Dean had his white knuckles clenched tightly around the steering wheel, muscles rigid, dark green eyes fierce, and no music playing to invade the silence. A few minutes later, Cas managed to calm himself down enough to turn to Dean and speak softly. “I am sorry that I did not listen to you when you said that we should just leave.” Though Cas was not entirely regretful for what he had done to the young man, he was ashamed that he had kept Dean in a situation that had egged on the Mark.

“We shouldn’t have gone out in the first place,” Dean grunted, and it tore at what Cas could only describe as his heart.

“I truly enjoyed the evening before then.” Cas tried to placate. The evening might have ended bad, but he didn’t want Dean to view the entire thing as a mistake. It had been a nice change to the way things had been recently, and Cas would hate to think that some ‘punk’ had ruined that for them.

Dean didn't seem to share his thoughts. He scoffed bitterly and kept his eyes on the road. The drive was quiet until they reached the bunker, and then Dean was shutting the door and storming towards his room.

“Cas?” Sam questioned with curiosity and worry in his hazel eyes. “What happened?”

“An altercation.”

“Dean, he didn’t…?”

“No. I did.” Cas slouched into one the chairs of the dining room as he had seen the Winchesters had done numerous times.

“What?”

Cas sighed. “A man at the movie theater called us faggots.” Sam’s eyes widened, “Dean wanted to leave, but I was furious at the man’s ignorant insults.” Cas was beginning to feel his rage again, and he shook it away. “Then he called Dean a bitch and I hit him.”

Sam knew Cas’ strength to know what one hit would do to a regular human. Sympathetically, the Winchester reached out a hand to grasp the angel’s shoulder in a brotherly manner. “I don’t blame you. Though I’m surprised Dean didn't hit first.”

“He had a good sense of self-restraint. If only I had listened to him when he said we should just leave.” Shame gripped him tight. “He knew what the situation was doing to the Mark, and I didn’t listen. I allowed him to...I kept him there even though…”

“Cas, man, breathe.” Sam was kneeling down, in full comfort mode. “Breathe. It’s going to be okay. Dean, didn’t hurt anyone did he?” Cas shook his head. “He didn't hurt you, right?”

“Right.”

“So, don’t feel guilty about what…”

“But something could have happened,” Cas argued, pushing Sam away to stand in self-hatred. “Dean knew the Mark was reacting negatively, and he tried to avoid it, and I kept him there anyways. What if Dean hadn’t been strong enough to keep resisting it? What if it had been Dean that had thrown the punch instead of me? Would he have stopped? Would I have been able to stop him?”

“That’s not on you Cas,” the voice came from upstairs where Dean was standing at the very top. “You’re not responsible for my actions.” Cas didn’t say anything, just lowered his head in disagreement and further shame. Green eyes glanced to Sam, who was glancing worriedly between the two. Then, he looked back to Cas. “Do you mind if I talk to you a bit, Cas?” He nodded towards the hall of the upstairs, waited until he saw Cas assent, and then walked away.

Before Cas moved towards the stairs, Sam caught his elbow gently, his eyes soft. “It’s going to be okay Cas.”

If Sam had managed to have a little more hope in his own voice, Cas might have believed him. As it was, he didn't.

Cas had his chance at having a nice evening, had gotten a few hours to sit beside a calm and relaxed Dean, had been able to share smiles and simple conversations, and it was over now. Because that was how life was, as Dean had pointed out. Only movies tended to have happy endings.

No wonder Dean hated movies that didn’t live up to that expectation.

 

 

 


	27. Chapter 27

Though it wasn't a long walk to Dean's room, the journey seemed arduous due to Cas' frantic thoughts. He knew Dean well enough to know that the hunter did not deal with interactions as they had just gone through very well. It was amazing enough that Dean had withstood throwing a punch himself, but now that it was over Dean was most likely bursting at the seams. And that was before the Mark. Now Cas was a little anxious about what lay await for him behind Dean's door. Not necessarily because he feared for his physical body, because he was still trying to be confident that even a cursed Dean was no match for him. Rather, his anxiety stemmed from his dislike of having Dean angry with him. For, though Dean often did present his temper in such a manner to the angel, it was still a hard thing to face every time he had to go through it.

Finally, Cas reached the hunter's door only to find that it was closed. Cas rolled his eyes. It was just like Dean to ask to talk with him for a moment, then close the door to give the impression that he didn't want to talk. So, Cas had a few more second to wait before being faced with Dean's unreasonable temper on a fellow person. Yet, as he waited for just a second longer, hearing Dean pace in his room back and forth with fierce and frantic steps, he only became more anxious. Storing his nervousness away behind his natural stoic appearance, he calmly knocked on the door.

Immediately, it was opened, and Cas was grabbed roughing by his forearm and dragged inside. It happened in seconds, but Cas was able to gather information at inhuman speed, and collected his thoughts almost as fast. First, Dean was indeed in a aggravated state, and their was a wildness in his green eyes that spoke of the temper that constantly lay in the hunter's natural being. Second, the Mark was awake and blazing even brighter and angrier than when they were in the car. Cas was pulled in roughly; the door was slammed, Cas was pushed against the wall right next to the doorknob...Cas braced himself to be punched without harming Dean (for he didn't want the hunter to break his bones as he had once done those first few years of their acquaintance), and then was assaulted by soft, chapped lips upon his own.

For all his millennia experience and fast paced mind, Cas' thoughts froze. The rough attack of lips on lips caught the angel off guard, and he had no way of knowing how to respond. He had been prepared to allow Dean to rage, to get out the irritation that the evening had caused and the Mark had increased, but he was definitely not prepared for this. For a second he wasn't even aware that what was happening was considered kissing, and when that conclusion did take form, he was confused about what the kiss meant. Too confused to kiss back.

Dean, too entranced by the intensity of the curse, didn't seem to be too mindful of the fact that Cas wasn't actually kissing him back. Rather than thinking Cas' frozen state was a sense of rejection, Dean was only concentrating on the force that he was initiating himself. When Cas' thoughts finally had the chance to catch up with what was happening, Dean was already moving on, leaving his lips only to be kissing and sucking down the angel's neck. Cas brought his arms upon Dean's, not to push away or to ground himself, but to give both of them the sense that this was actually happening. To possibly give Dean the chance to realize what the Mark was encouraging him to do, and take the opportunity to stop. For, as Cas' thoughts formed in their natural reasonable state, he knew that this wasn't Dean who was kissing him with such passion, but rather the Mark that seemed to have found a new outlet for its intensity.

"Dean," Cas tried to break the hunter's movements.

However, Cas' gruff voice seemed to only egg Dean on further. Suddenly, in addition to the lips that roughly kissed down his neck, a tongue was swiping over skin with fever. At this point, Cas truly wanted to command Dean to stop. He didn't want his Dean to awake from the possession of the Mark and stare in horror at Cas for allowing such a thing to get too far. He didn't want Dean to regret a moment like this. He didn't want Dean to distance himself from Cas again, which was surely what was going to happen once Dean came to his senses. However, no matter how these sensible thoughts came to mind, the angel couldn't bring himself to fight against the hunter's advances with too much strength. Because, as much as Cas despised himself for his weakness, the pleasure was too intense on his end as well.

Cas wasn't as much as a virgin as the Winchester teased him about it. He'd watched porn, had studied humans for eons as they participated in carnal activities, and had even seen Dean in some of his earlier escapades. More than that, the angel had his own set of experiences. The make out session with Meg had been far from innocence. That experience had been so intense, in fact, that it had left a lasting effect in that she had been willing to be a devoted caretaker during his time as a mental patient, and had left a promise for something more if she hadn’t died that night by Crowley’s hand. He also remembered being married to Daphne. Though they had never established a sexual relationship, there had been plenty of well meaning kisses. More than that, he had in fact had sex. True, it was with a reaper who had decided to kill him the next morning, but before that unfortunate event upon waking up, there had been plenty of “fun” that Cas had had during the night. Yes, April (or the Reaper that had possessed April) had initiated the act, but Cas had been a willing participant. As soon as he realized what she had been leading him towards, he may have felt a little apprehension, but for the most part his human self had enjoyed the anticipation and physical pleasure. So much so, that they’d gone another three rounds.

Yet, even with that knowledge and those experiences, there was nothing compared to the sensations Dean was bringing about now. His skin, even controlled by borrowed grace, tingled with an impalpable electricity. His toes tingled in pleasure. Inside, there was a warmth he hadn’t felt since he’d been human enough to feel it.

Sweet lips were lowering themselves still, sucking along his collarbone. A large, calloused hand reached underneath his shirt, roughly grabbing just above the hips. Cas had to restrain himself from allowing a groan to escape, which he only managed to do because of the grace granting him the ability to do so. If he had been human when the Mark led Dean to do such things, Cas would have been a withering mess.

As it was, Cas did find it in himself to finally retain his resolve. Gruff, competent, and commanding, Cas pushed Dean back enough that Dean’s lips had to left from Cas’ skin. “That is enough.”

Whether it was the angel’s tone, or the gentle shove, Dean’s lust blown eyes cleared. The Mark on his arm gradually lightened to the dull scar, signaling that the curse had run its course for the time being. Then, as soon as green eyes became lucid, the regret, disbelief, and self-loathing set in.

“Dean,” Cas tried to soothe, knowing where the hunter’s thoughts were taking him. Of thinking how disgusted he was of himself for engaging in such an activity with someone in a male vessel. How the hunter was probably hating himself for allowing the Mark to make him act against his natural wishes.

Broken, Dean shook his head. “Cas, I...I’m sorry man.” The hunter’s body was heaving heavily, adrenaline quickly setting upon him due to the horror and anger at what had just transpired. Before Cas had the chance to inform Dean that there wasn’t anything to apologize for (because being kissed was certainly a much more pleasant alternative that the Mark choosing to act out violently - and was probably healthy medium for Dean to wake up from), the hunter was rushing past him and out of the room.

Cas wanted to follow. He truly did. But he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Afterall, it was he who had allowed it to get so far. He should have pushed Dean away the second Cas had realized the Mark’s intentions. Cas hung his head low. He should have never allowed himself to be swayed by the sensual sensations even for a second. He had known that Dean wouldn’t want such intimate actions to happen between them, that friends didn’t do things like that, that ‘brothers’ would never think of such a thing, and yet he had been too weak to stop the Mark.


	28. Chapter 28

Weeks passed by miserably. Again, Cas was stuck in a routine of trying to perform minor miracles (what little he could do with borrowed grace), tried to track down any leads on the Mark, kept in constant contact with a worried Sam, and a cordial but distant communication with Dean.    
  
"Sir," a kind, young waitress stopped by his table, peering at him with concerned green eyes. Cas brought his head up to look her straight in her eyes, which caused her to blush at the sudden attention. "Do you need anything?"    
  
"Coffee please." She smiled sweetly, and hurried to comply. It only took a second for her to return with a full coffee cup with sugar and cream to set before him. "Thank you."   
  
Maybe there was something in his voice, or Sam had mentioned before how sometimes Cas' low gruff tone seemed either disapproving or completely bleak and lost to the world. Cas hadn't found it in himself at the time that Sam had pointed this out, to admit that he did feel lost and bleak much of the time. Whatever it might have been, the young woman took the seat across the table. He stared at her with a titled head, silently questioning her.   
  
"I thought you could use a friend." She answered simply.   
  
The tilt to his head stayed. "I have friends," he tried to assure her. He knew well enough how people viewed those who were incapable of obtaining friends. "They are just busy."   
  
Her dark green eyes twinkled with an amused light that he often saw reflected in Dean's own green eyes.   "I didn't mean to imply that you didn't have friends." Her smile was warm and friendly. "I just meant that you looked like you needed a friend here and now. Someone to talk to. To share your burdens." When Cas didn't speak, she continued, "I'm a bartender on the weekends. That sort of makes me a certified therapist."    
  
Cas doubted that, but she was smiling sweetly at him and he thought it might be rude to completely reject her. He had, though, seen bartenders listen attentively to their customers, so maybe there was something to the job description, if not the certification itself. "It has been a tiring few weeks," he decided to dislodge metaphorically from his chest. "A friend of mine is very ill."   
  
The woman's cheery expression fell to appropriately signify sincerity. "Fatal?" She guessed, probably from the near hopelessness of Cas' voice.    
  
To that, he didn't reply. For, in all intent and purposes, the Mark was not a fatal illness. In fact, it would keep Dean from being fatal at all. However, in terms of the spirit, in terms of Dean's soul, it was most definitely fatal.    
  
"I'm sorry."   
  
His bleak, glassy eyes looked straight into her's. "It is not your fault." He could never understand why humans thought it necessary to apologize for things that they had no control. Dean certainly had the habit of taking it upon himself to take the blame for all the trouble of the world no matter who was actually at fault. "You have no need to apologize."   
  
The little frown, the sad green eyes were a bit too much for Cas. There was too much emotion in that gaze, that as an angel Castiel still struggled with comprehending.    
  
"I know it might not be my place," she started again after a few moments of quiet condolence, her sweet voice low, "but it seems to me like you're taking this illness upon yourself as well."   
  
"I am not ill."   
  
Her frown only deepened. "No offense, but you certainly seem like you are."   
  
It was at this this time that Cas decided that he couldn't take any more of this woman's time. He stood brusquely, setting a wad of cash onto the table. "Thank you for the coffee and your company." Then he was heading out.   
  
Despite his rudeness, she was calling after him. "My name is Ruth, if you want to stop by later to talk. Sometimes it's good to talk."   
  
But Cas couldn't. He wouldn't have minded if she had wanted to hear his sad tale of how his best friend was dying in all the ways that mattered. It might have been beneficial for Cas to talk to someone other than Sam about the weariness that came along with worrying over someone with so much energy. He might have, if she had been utterly willing, to tell her briefly of his woes in concern to Dean. However, he refused to speak of his own personal weakness...his own illness, as the stranger had seen. For, as much as Sam tried to reassure him that he mattered for himself, and not just for his relation to Dean, Cas still had the dutiful sense of a failed angel that he needed to do penance. Whatever 'illness' that did come upon himself, then it was what he deserved.    
  
And, he admitted to himself as he drove his yellow car to the worn down motel, he was ill, at least in the angelic sense. Earlier that day he had performed a minor miracle in healing a baby of a brain tumor. A simple miracle that wouldn't have taken much out of him years before. With everything that had happened recently, though, specifically with the grace that wasn't his, such a healing had completely drained Castiel. He felt faint, his muscles numb and lazy. He was pale, a sickish hue beneath his baggy eyes. Though he didn't sweat, he felt feverish. He felt weak. And it was a weakness that he couldn't admit to anyone, but rather a weakness that he deserved to suffer alone.   
  
When he got to the motel, he plopped unceremoniously onto the bed, thinking about the possibility of going to sleep. When he was human, sleeping had been terrible, full of nightmares and fitfulness. As an angel, even as a pathetic one, he didn't require sleep per se. However, rest was one way to recharge. Maybe that was all he needed, he tried to convince himself. Maybe a few hours of rest would allow him to wake up ready to take on the challenges of this year.    
  
After a while of laying ungracefully on the stuffy bed, Cas rearranged himself more comfortably. He scooted up further onto the bed, resting his head upon the fluffed up pillows. The TV was on now and a Hallmark movie was playing. Still, despite the more relaxed position he had put himself into, he couldn’t find it in himself to drift off to sleep. There were too many things keeping him awake. Too many things shouting within him, not willing to allow himself to forget even for a moment all the ways he had failed and all the ways he continued to fail as the angels rebuilt Heaven within him and his best friend suffered miles away. 

 

Just as he was able to change the channel to something less emotional (something that wouldn’t upset his already sensitive being), his phone began to ring. “What?”

 

There was a surprised pause on the other end. “Cas?” He heard the astonished and concerned voice of Sam. “You okay, man?”

 

“Yes, of course,” Cas responded gruffly. “What do you need?” Weariness seeped through his gravel words. 

 

“I, uh,” Sam was stuttering. “I don’t need anything. Just wanted to check on you. You didn’t call today.”

 

Cas sighed. “I apologize. I was busy. I am fine. Thank you for checking in.”

 

“Wait,” Sam stopped him from trying to end the conversation. “Really, man? What’s going on?”

 

“Not much,” the angel tried to answer casually, in the kind of sass he had heard from Dean when asked so questions. “Just looking for a cure.” And failing.

 

There was another pause. When Sam spoke, his tone was low and careful. “Maybe you should come back home, you know, get some rest.”   
  


“I cannot go home. You know that.” Cas bit out bitterly.    
  


“I meant here...at the bunker. Cas, this is your home. And,” the Winchester tried to come up with the appropriate words, “I don’t want to wear yourself thin. Why don’t come back for a while and recharge?”   
  


It sounded nice, and Cas certainly wanted to return to the bunker to be with both of the Winchesters...but he couldn’t. For one, as much as Sam tried to make it sound like his home, it was a hard truth for the angel to accept. Second, he couldn’t bring himself to be so close to Dean so soon. Not after their last time of being together. Not after Cas had been too weak to resist what the Mark had urged Dean to do. 

 

He didn’t think Dean would hate him for what Cas had allowed the Mark to do. Dean had proven time and time again, that Cas could damage the world and the hunter wouldn’t hate him. However, that didn’t mean that Dean wouldn’t be furious as hell. And right now, Cas didn’t think he could handle that type of anger, especially coming from the oldest Winchester. He certainly wouldn’t be able to handle the guilt and regret Dean himself would be feeling at having kissed another man, at having done such things with Cas. 

 

“I can’t.”

 

This time it was Sam that sighed. “Cas, please, whatever happened between you and Dean, you’ll both come around. Just come home and rest, and everything will work out in the end.”   
  


“I will be fine Cas.”   
  
Sam scoffed. “You sound like a Winchester.” 

 

“Sam…”

 

“Just come back for a while please. It’s no use overworking yourself like this.”   
  


“Goodnight Sam. I will make sure to call you tomorrow.”


	29. Chapter 29

Dean was laying on his memory foam mattress, head propped against the fluffed pillows, headphones on to block anything that wasn’t rock and roll. His eyes were closed. His arms were crossed stiffly over his chest. The Mark was an angry, faded scar against on his forearm, lowkey for the moment as music drummed through his mind, but quietly impatiently to make its way to the surface ten folds as soon as the situation presented itself. 

The Mark of Cain was getting harder to control each day that a cure couldn’t be found, and Dean was scared out of his mind about when the time would come where he wouldn’t be able to snuff it out quickly enough. He’d already killed men - guilty as they may have been - and each day more just made that desire stronger. The bloodlust was always just there, right underneath the surface. Waiting for the opportunity to claw its way out and take what it wanted. 

The only reason the Mark hadn’t done anything worse than that (though Dean couldn’t bring himself to accept even that darkness acceptable most days), was because there were minor distractions that managed to soothe the Mark at least for a time. One was hunting. Sam still didn’t think it was wise to be going out on violent and difficult cases too often, but Dean was insistent, and there was little Sam could argue with when there were innocents dying at the monsters they were meant to defeat. During those hunts, Dean could allow the Mark a little bit of its taste of blood (monster/ demon blood), letting his own anger and aggression out in full in whatever over the top manner ended up being the conclusion. The second thing that was helping the Mark stay calm even for just a moment (and Dean would be hard pressed to admit this out loud) was Cas. 

Suddenly a fist was slamming against his door. Then, without waiting for confirmation that it was safe to open the door, Sam was bursting through, bitchface number fourteen set in place. “What the hell happened between you and Cas?”  
Dean took off the headphones completely, annoyed that his little brother would invade his privacy like that. On his arm, that Mark glared. “What are you talking about?” 

“I just got off the phone with Cas, telling him to come back to the bunker to rest for a bit, and he completely blew me off.”

“So?” Dean scoffed, masking the rejection and fury he was feeling at the thought that Cas was purposefully avoiding him. “That’s Cas for you.”

Sam narrowed his hazel eyes. “He’s not willing to come back to the bunker because of something you did.”

“Did you say that?” Because as much as Dean agreed with his brother, he doubted that those words had actually left the angel’s lips. 

“No, but I can read behind the lines.” Dean held up his three middle fingers, raising his eyebrows in implication. Sam’s glared hardened, but refused to let the immature behavior deter him from his own frustration. “Whatever you did, apologize and fix it.”

“Whatever Bitch.”  
It was a testament to how much Sam was upset about what was causing Cas stress that the response, “jerk” did not make an acquaintance. “I mean it Dean. You better call him in the morning and sort this whole thing out.”  
“I didn’t do anything!” Dean tried to deny, but even through his rage (or maybe because of his rage), his lie seemed hollow. 

Sam stared cynically at his older brother, giving him the usual look of disgust that he had mastered over the years of Dean’s screw ups and intolerable personality. However, after a second of intense glaring, something softened. Which Dean thought to be even worse. “Dean,” his voice was almost soft now and Dean hated the change even more than Sam having though he could barge in his room in the first place. “What happened?”  
“Nothing happened!”  
“Something happened,” the youngest Winchester sighed. “Don’t you think you should talk about it? I mean…”  
“Seriously, Sam? Talk about it? Since have you ever known me to want to talk about something?” Dean practically growled. “Get out. I said I’d call Cas, but I sure as hell ain’t having this conversation with you anymore.”  
“Dean…”  
“Out!”

“Dean…”

A pillow was flung furiously at his head, which Sam caught easily with a look of annoyance. Shaking his head with a mixture of disappointment, sadness, and irritation, he left. The door slammed behind him. 

Wanting to return to his somewhat relaxed state before Sam had come barging in, but knowing it wasn’t likely, Dean threw himself back against the raised pillowed and threw the headphones back on with the music blaring. The Mark was angry now, an ugly red against his tanned and calloused skin. His blood itched for him to act out on the rage that was now boiling inside of him, but Dean pushed it down and concentrated on the darkness behind his eyelids. 

Tomorrow morning he’d do as he’d told his brother he would. He’d call Cas. That didn’t mean that anything was going to be fixed, though, whether Dean tried or not. 

The last time him and Cas had seen each other, Dean had all but assaulted the angel. Had dragged him into his bedroom, pushed him against the wall, and kissed him roughly without consent. Dean hated himself for not realizing soon that Cas hadn’t been kissing back, had in fact, been trying to keep him at an arm’s length. He hated that he had allowed the Mark to take the emotions he had for the angel and twist them and use them as an outlet for the Mark’s adrenaline spiked fury. 

The words from the movie theatre still rattled Dean, and consequently the Mark.At first, Dean had thought the guy had been talking to another couple, for him and Cas hadn’t been doing anything intimate. But being raised as a hunter since four, he had gained the ability to catch on when threats were being made specifically against him. Those words had definitely been directed at him and Cas. Then, as Dean realized this, he also realized how close him and Cas were actually standing. Close enough that their shoulders were occasionally bumping into each other. Having just exited a romantic comedy together. Laughing and arguing like any of the other couples might have done. 

When they had arrived back at the bunker, the Mark was all but screaming inside of him, veins and head. It raged at him to go back and track down that jerk and beat him bloody, though Cas had done enough. Then, as the seconds passed without Dean making a move to do anything about it, the thrum of bloodlust got stronger, urging Dean to simply get out of the bunker to go somewhere to beat up someone, preferably leaving the other person in an alleyway covered in their own blood, gasping for their last breaths. 

As bad as it had been, though, Dean had had enough self-control to leave his bedroom and head back to where he could hear Cas and his brother speaking. He had enough sense in him to know that he shouldn't be alone right then. That he needed a distraction. 

The moment he had peered down at Sam and Cas, that distraction was clear as crystal, and the Mark was suddenly shouting a different tune. He didn’t need blood. He just needed adrenaline. He needed something that he could take. That something (someone) was Cas. Just at the sight of the angel cleared the Mark of its bloodlust, a new kind of lust overwhelmed the hunter.

Dean groaned, re-imagining that evening. In the heat of the moment everything had felt so good. After all those years of trying to deny what he wanted, all those times he had repressed his feelings, had told himself he had no right to go after what such things, things were…right. Except, that wasn’t true. Because, while Dean had been enjoying the way Cas’ skin tasted, had enjoyed the way he could almost feel the angel’s vessel’s heart beat, felt the angel’s soft lips against his, Cas had been frozen to stop in disgust.

**********

The next morning, as Dean was chugging down a cup of black coffee, trying to reign in the courage to call Cas and apologize for that evening, Sam came back from his jog. “Why do you look so happy?” Dean scoffed. It was too early for anyone to be anywhere near as cheerful as Sam looked at the moment. Sam frowned at the admonishment, but the light was still in his eyes, and Dean had the brief thought that the light symbolized some sort of hope. “What’s up?” The elder Winchester asked a little more kindly.

“Cas called. He’s got a lead on Cain.” 

 


	30. Chapter 30

Sam had texted Cas to inform that he would be checking up on the prisoner murder that Cas had stumbled upon sometime after midnight on angel radio, while Cas tracked down Cain himself. After killing one demon after another, Cas finally found himself here, in the middle of an informal cemetery. 

“Hello, Castiel.”

“What have you done?” The angel’s voice was just on the edge of broken, not wanting to accept how far gone Cain had taken himself. He had kept the influence of the Mark at bay for so long, Cas had thought Dean would stand the same chance, and yet here he was, surrounded by his buried victims. It was a shuddering thought to imagine a time when Dean would become this far gone. 

“These bodies? Just clearing up a mess I made a long time ago.”

Discouraged, but not altogether without any sort of hope, Cas tried to reason. “Cain, I know what you were. But you resisted for so long.”

“What can I say? I got the taste back.” He started making his way towards him, a dangerous predator eyeing a seemingly defenseless prey. “With Abaddon's army gunning for me, I had to take up arms again, and I liked how it felt.”

“How were demons. These,” he cut off short as Cain crouched down to pick up a muddy stuffed teddy bear. Cas couldn’t bare it. 

“Humans. Eh, the Mark thirsts for all kinds.”

“This is a massacre.” Far worse than the already blood curdling situation back at the barn in which Dean had first lost his will against the Mark. 

“Yes. And soon it’ll be a genocide.” Soon, Cas could hear Cain silently add, Dean would be the one committing that genocide, killing the world slowly. “My children, my whole poisoned offspring. A lot of them out there right now...killers, fighters, thieves, some more peaceful than others.” But they would all die, Cas narrowed his eyes against the onslaught of evil promises. “But they still carry it...the disease. If the Mark wants blood, I’ll give it mine.”

Which is what needed to be done. If Cain couldn’t reign in the Mark anymore, then he didn’t to be eliminated.That was the train of thought that Cas tried to concentrate on, rather than dwell on the implications that Cain wasn’t being too subtle about concerning Dean’s fate. Then, because Cas never could get a break, and because Cain was done with the angel’s denial, he stated bluntly and cruely. 

“There is no cure. I’m living proof of that.” Mentally, Cas shook his head. There had to be a cure. Dean couldn’t become this. As if reading his mind, Cain soothed, “But don’t worry about Dean. I’ll get to him...in due time.” 

The second the threat left son of Adam’s lips, Cas had his angel blade out and ready to take Cain’s blood. He had already confirmed that it was his blood that the Mark could take, and Cas was completely willing to be the one to take it if that meant Dean would be safe for just a while longer. 

“Sorry, Castiel. You’re not on my list.” And Cain disappeared. 

************

They were set, ready to trap Cain and have Dean face his intenal and external demons. The kid that Cain was gunning for was safe for the time being, far away from the bar that would soon be the final battleground of the wielders of the Mark. Cas inwardly sighed at the thought that soon Dean would have to go into the barn with an unrestrained Cain on a genocide mission. Occasionally, he took his eyes off of his job of collecting and depositing the items that would be needed to complete this insane task to look up and watch the hunter as he paced on creaking wood floors, scratching the scar of the Mark self-consciously. 

“Running errands all over the U.S?” Crowley’s insufferable voice broke through Cas’ mental mantra of ‘Dean’s going to be alright’ and ‘after this, Dean will be okay’. “Violence, dying grace. All in desperate effort to save your boyfriend.”

Already to the point of breaking and exploding, Cas retorted snidely, “What about you Crowley? Dropping everything, bringing the First Blade.” He stared at the demon with cold, blue eyes. “Maybe he’s your boyfriend.” Thankfully, Crowley too the hint for once and left. If Cas noticed the demon’s eyes carefully tracking the hunter that was now leaning against a railing, he did his best to ignore the jealous twist. 

Lost in thought, it wasn’t long before Crowley was coming back and Dean was glaring down. “Show time.” Cas nodded dutifully, and went down to one of the first waves of bait. 

It didn’t take long for Cain to get struck in the Demon’s track. It was a bad turn around for Cas, who had been thrown into the wall, depowered at one point, and weakened by the first wielder of the Mark, but it was over and done with. He strolled out of the barn with the trench coat trailing behind him in an angry sweep. He reassured Sam of his well-being and then watched as Dean sauntered through the opening Cas had just come from, the First Blade in hand. The battle was beginning. 

A part of Cas wished to do as Sam and Crowley were doing, staying away from the door and from the fight. Dean had made it clear that none of them were to help in this battle, for it was a match purely between Cain and himself. Hesitant, but willing to agree, Sam and Crowley did as they were told and kept away from the door.  As much as Cas knew they were both worrying over Dean’s state of being in there, they refused to keep an eye on it. They didn’t want to watch if Dean was getting his ass handed to him. Worse than that, they didn’t want to watch if Dean wasn’t getting his ass handed to him, but rather riding the Mark’s influence to its fullest. Neither one of them had the guts to watch Dean descend back into that kind of darkness. 

Cas didn’t want to see that descent either, but he couldn’t completely abandon Dean to his fate whatever it might be. He would have gone after Dean despite the worries he had stated to his brother, but Dean was adamant about him staying back as well. “I’d be worried about what he could do to you...Or what I could.” Cas stared deeply into darkening green eyes. “Plus, I need you three out of here to take out whatever comes out of there. And I’m serious. I mean whatever comes out.” So, needing to see Dean’s progress himself even if Dean wasn't allowing him to actively involve himself for the time being, Cas sent out his grace to keep watch over the hunter. 

It was bad. Of course it was bad. There was a lot of banter, a lot of warnings, a lot of needless taunts at Dean’s humanity, and there was a lot of Dean being beaten to the ground. The hunter was still trying to keep the Mark at bay, and therefore wasn’t on the same league as Cain himself. Even with the Blade in hand, Dean was too consumed by the energy it cost him to stay in complete control of himself. His self-control would be his downfall in terms of this fight. Cain seemed to realize this face as well. 

“What is it, Dean? Do you think if you hold back enough, you won’t succumb, that you’ll leave this fight the same as you entered?” Dean was thrown to the ground. Cas would have winched if he was back in his vessel. “Look at my example, boy! There is no resisting the Mark or the Blade. There is only remission and relapse.” Cain punched the hunger savagely, and it took everything Cas had to disobey Dean and tear in there to join the fight. 

“You told me that this day would come. You told me that I would have to kill you.”

“Is that so?” Dean was flung across the barn and into a window. “I’m afraid you misunderstood my intentions here, Dean. When your  _ pet angel _ ,” he sneered the words, “I thought about ending him and swatting him like a fly. But then I thought about you. Your biggest weakness….”

Dean had pushed himself up and had begun to walk back towards Cain, and Cas could see the strength returning in the hunter’s stance. The words that Cain spoke hit Cas hard, maybe even harder than the intended audience. Weakness. Hadn’t Metatron mentioned a kind of weakness back then too? When he had thought he had Cas backed into a corner?

“Your courage. Your reckless bravado. I let him go, knowing that he would report back to you, knowing you would bring into battle the one thing that can kill me, the one thing I truly want.” He held out his hands and suddenly the First Blade was flying out Dean’s grip. “Oh, it’s been too long. That old feeling makes me wonder how I ever had the strength to resist.” Dean ran to attack Cain, but the Knight of Hell grabbed the hunter by the throat and threw him to the ground easily. 

Cas was so close to returning back to his vessel and storming in, consequences be damned. 

“This may be hard to believe, in light of what I’m about to do to you, but I care about you, Dean. I truly do. But I know I’m doing you a favor. I’m saving you.”

“Saving me from what?”

“From your Fate. Has it never occurred to you? Have you never mused upon the fact that you’re living my life in reverse? My story began when I killed my brother, and that’s where your story inevitably will end.”

_ No,  _ Cas thought. 

“No. Never.”

“It’s called for the Mark of Cain for a reason! First...first you’d kill Crowley. There’d be some strange, mixed feelings on that one, but you’d have your reason. You’d get it done, no remorse. And then,” he paused, dark eyes glancing in the direction that Cas’ grace had pooled into, as if knowing the angel was watching over them (and he probably did) “then you’d kill the angel, Castiel. Now, that one...that I suspect would hurt something awful. And then!” 

Cas couldn’t watch anymore. As much as he wanted to match sure of Dean’s safety and well-being, he couldn't’ bring himself to see it to the end. He knew how it was going to end. Cain would taunt Dean with killing his brother, and Dean, in unadulterated rage and that old sense of righteousness with a new sense of darkness, would rush at Cain, take the First Blade back, and kill him.

Moments later, just as Cas had suspected, Dean stumbled out of the barn and into the motley crowd that waited anxiously for his return. He worn and tired, halfway defeated in spirit, but he was still standing and the Mark his eyes had returned to a pleasant evergreen. Against all odds, Dean had come out of the battle with his body and soul still mostly intact. 

The rest of that evening was a blur to Cas. After knowing that Dean would be okay for just a while longer, and that Dean was passing the angel the First Blade rather than Crowley, Cas was too busy thinking about Cain’s taunts and what they might mean for Dean in the future. 

For it had been clear that Cain had truly meant it when he had stated that there was no cure. However, there was a way to repress the Mark. And Cain himself had repressed the Mark for hundreds of years. 

The clue was in the way that Cain had structured the kills. He had stated clearly that he thought Dean was living his life backwards, which meant Sam was in the same position as Abel, Crowley the same the other Knights of Hell, and Cas...Cas had been placed in the same role as Cain’s Collette. 

And that, Cas dwelled on as he followed the brothers into the impalad, that had to mean something. 


	31. Chapter 31

The ride to the bunker was quiet, but peaceful in a way it hadn’t been in almost two years (at least to Cas’ knowledge). Granted, the brothers were still on edge from the fight that had just transpired between Dean and Cain, but there was something in the air that acknowledged that Dean did in fact have the power to resist the Mark. It may be as Cain had said, that there was no true cure to the curse, but there was a way to keep it at bay, and Cas was sure that he was on the right track to figuring it out. 

By the way that Dean kept shooting quick glances in the rearview, Cas was sure Dean was on the same path as well. 

When the arrived at the bunker, Cas wanted nothing more than to speak with Dean privately, but the humans were hungry and they had to eat before separating. So Cas endured a laid back dinner with the brothers, only tasting the food because Dean had once mentioned that it was polite to eat when everyone else was. Then, as Dean took up the domestic role of washing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen, Cas was forced to wait even longer to get the hunter alone. 

“Cas?” Sam’s voice broke Cas out of his thoughts on how he would broach the subject of what could possibly help Dean. 

“Yes Sam?”

“What are you going to do about the Blade?”

Cas frowned. “Keep it away from Dean.” It was as simple as that. Dean had a hard enough time keeping control of himself with the Mark on his arm, but it was murderous to even think about keeping it near him. 

“Not get rid of it completely?” 

“There is no way to get rid of it completely, Sam. If there was, Cain would have done so long ago.” The best Cain had been able to do was throw it into the bottom of the ocean, and while Cas was thinking that sounded like a good idea, Crowley had been persuasive in his reasoning of keeping the Blade close to Cas rather than leaving it unattended anywhere else. 

Sam sighed. “Then where does that really leave us?” Cas could hear Dean finishing in the kitchen, and though the angel was eager to go and meet him, he was now stuck in the dining room to comfort the younger brother. A part of him felt guilty for immediately wanting to do nothing but talk to Dean, not even thinking about the state Sam might be in. 

“It leaves us with just a little more hope than we had before Dean overcame Cain without completely losing himself to the Mark.”

Hazel eyes didn’t look convinced. “For now, maybe. But Dean told me about Cain. Described him as a pretty chill guy. Just wanted to be left alone and be a beekeeper. Had given up the Knight of Hell stuff, and all that. So where does that leave someone like Dean? Who constantly involves himself with things from Hell and doesn’t know, even on a good day, when to call it quits?” 

Reaching out a comforting hand to lay upon Sam’s shoulder, Cas tried to reason, “Maybe it’s Dean’s familiarity with these things before the Mark, that will give him the edge that Cain did not?” It was reasonable, but still a weak speculation. He might have tried to reassure Sam with what he thought would truly hold Dean back from losing himself, but he wasn’t sure the younger WInchester would take it seriously or with ease, and Cas wasn’t willing to say anything out loud until he knew for sure it would truly work. 

Again, Sam didn’t look convinced, but he tried to take in the comfort that Cas was attempting to provide, and nodded. “Yea. Maybe. I hope so.” 

“You should get some rest. I’ll watch over Dean.”

Sam smiled. “Just don’t let Dean hear you say something like that.”

“Of course.” Though if Cas was right about his theory, and Dean agreed, then Dean wouldn’t care much about Cas watching over him at night anymore.

By the time Sam retired to his room, Dean had finished with everything and was also heading up the stairs. When the eldest Winchester noticed that the angel was following him, he gave a solemn half smile and just kept walking. Taking this as the invitation that it inevitably was, Cas continued to follow, and stepped into the bedroom right after Dean. 

Once inside, Cas figured they would have to talk a couple of things out first. Cas would try to be rational, try to explain simply and with a stern tone. In reaction, Dean would flush under such implications, be a jerk about it, but then hopefully admit that he was thinking the same and follow through with the connection that Cas believed would help ease the Mark. 

Instead, what happened was similar to how that evening not so long ago had ended; with Cas being pushed against the wall and Dean’s lips on his. Soft lips were a strange mixture of being gentle and passionate simultaneously. Calloused hands moved to grip Cas’ hips, squeezing with just enough pressure to send pleasurable shivers down his vessel’s back. The scar that was etched into Dean’s forearm was an angry red, desiring the adrenaline.

When Dean began to take his kisses away from his mouth and move towards his neck, Cas managed to find the self-control to speak. “Dean, we should talk about this first.”

“Don’t wanna to talk,” came the rough laced voice, husky and dangerous, and very much aroused. Light nips at his collarbone had Cas shaking in pleasure and anticipating. 

“Dean, please,” Cas tried, not wanting to take advantage of the situation. Though he knew this was the possible out that they had been hoping for, he didn’t feel right allowing the Mark to make decisions that Dean wasn’t in his right mind to agree to. “Talk first. Then we can continue this.” With trembling arms, he pushed Dean back enough to look him in the eyes. 

Hazy green eyes blinked slowly. With his soft lips no longer near Cas’ skin, the angel was able to stop shivering and was able to collect his thoughts more clearly. He held Dean back with more strength, making it clear that nothing would happen until Dean had a clear head and talked it out. It didn’t take long for the haze to melt away, and once that haze was gone, Dean flushed with embarrassment and hurriedly backed away. 

Unwilling to let the hunter run away from the situation, Cas stopped him with the low, gravel of his voice. “Dean, sit.” The hunter obeyed without question, which Cas found was a pleasant surprise as well as a beautiful sight to see. “Breathe.” Again, the hunter did as he was told, struggling to find his breath and keep steady. Slowly, Cas stepped forward and kneeled before him. Clear and almost shy, insecure green eyes, looked into his. “I’m sorry. I needed you to be clear headed. I didn’t want to take advantage of you.”

Dean scoffed, half bitterly and half with wry amusement. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been the one taking advantage of you.” He bowed his head  in shame. “I’m sorry…”

“I enjoyed it,” was the best thing Cas could think of to say. It seemed to be the correct choice when Dean’s eyes lifted, and the shame began to lessen, making way for a tinge of confusion. “I just didn’t want you to do anything that you’d regret in the morning.” 

“I wouldn’t have regretted it,” Dean tried to argue, but when Cas rose an eyebrow to express his doubt, Dean sighed and lowered his head again. “Okay, I might have. But only because I would have been afraid that I had made you do something you didn’t want to do. And man, I can’t lose you. Not with everything that’s going on. You’re one of the few things that have kept me going this long.” 

The admission sent a burst of warmth through Cas. It wasn’t as if Dean had never said something similar, or had never let Cas know how important he was by the way the hunter longed after him when the angel wasn’t by his side, but such sentiments were rare with Dean and Cas relished the moment. “If it is any consolation, you have been one of the few things that have kept me going as well.”

Dean smiled weakly, and, in a brief moment of intimacy, leaned forwards to press his forehead against Cas’. For a time, they just stayed in that position, with Dean sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning towards Cas who was kneeled between his knees. 

It was a peaceful moment that Cas found he couldn’t break away from, couldn’t break the spell that was bringing this intimacy and sense of calm. “Cas,” Dean almost whimpered (if Dean were the kind of man to make such noise) “I’m tired.” 

And he certainly sounded exhausted. The thought almost made Cas smile. It wasn't the fight with Cain that had Dean worn out, it was the few minutes of vulnerability, and Cas couldn’t help but think that it was so...Dean. Slowly, with his hands against Dean’s knees, Cas pushed himself up. Green eyes tracked his movement, but made no move to do anything about it. Standing, Cas began to slowly glide his hands to Dean’s plaid overshirt to ease off his shoulders.

“Cas?”

“Shh, let me help you rest.” 

The overshirt was tossed tenderly to the floor and Cas began the task of removing the rest of the hunter’s layers. Dean, tired as he was, simply allowed for it to happen, sighing from the soft touches that Cas left in his wake. Once done with his shirts, Cas lowered himself again to begin to untie the hunter’s shoes, removing each item upon his feet, before moving back up to settle on the belt. Cas expected Dean to protest at this point, to question Cas’ motives again, but by this time Dean was too far gone by the lulling sensations Cas had been causing, and the angel was able to successfully rid the hunter of everything except his boxers.

With his tasks done, Cas gently pushed Dean back onto the bed, maneuvering him so he would be in a comfortable position, pulling the covers over his practically naked body. Upon being settled, Dean nuzzled against his pillow, sleep quickly overtaking him. Cas 

Smiling at the drowsy hunter, his expression calm for the first time in months, Cas began make his way towards the door. He would mention his theory about how he himself could help Dean repress the Mark the following day. “Don’t go.” Dean spoke softly, struggling to fight against sleep to make this final request. 

“Of course.” So Cas began to settle himself in the chair that Dean had left in his room. 

“No,” the voice that stopped him didn’t sound like the Dean that Cas knew, it sounded young and vulnerable. “Stay with me.”

“I’ll stay with you,” the angel reassured. 

“Stay with me here.”

Cas was about to reiterate that he would stay, before he realized what Dean truly wanted. Smiling, he moved to the bed himself, and settled himself against the hunter above the covers. He was rewarded with a pleased sighed from the human, as the solid body cuddled against him. 


	32. Chapter 32

Cas opened his eyes to see evergreens staring at him in a state of curiosity and peace. Blinking the slight drowsiness away, Cas mumbled, “I thought you said watching someone sleep was creepy.”

  
Dean gave a small smile, but there was a hint of concern there too. “I thought you said angels didn’t need to sleep.” He stared longer, more intensely. “Did you expend that much energy yesterday?”

  
“No. I didn’t require rest. I simply wanted to sleep next to you.”

  
“Oh,” Dean started to push himself up on the bed, the covers lowering from his naked chest. “Okay.” Fully awake in body, but having his mind still needing time to process everything from the day before, Dean scoot off of the bed and get dressed.

  
Cas raised himself up to lean against the headboard, watching as Dean slowly gathered his clothes. “Maybe you should spend the day resting,” he suggested lightly.

  
“Uh, yea. I’ll stay in the bunker. Don’t worry Cas.”

  
“I actually meant actual rest. Here in your room.”

  
Dean turned on him, staring into Cas’ blue eyes. In those bright eyes, Cas could see the nervousness that was seeping in, everything settling into Dean’s mind that wanted to contradict what had been expressed the evening before. Slowly, Dean laid himself back onto the bed, tense. Though the Mark was a faded scar upon his forearm, it was ugly and it still weaved its darkness through the hunter’s veins despite the fact that Dean himself was in a simi-calm state.

  
“Rest as in sleep?” Cas tried again, unsure of his right to presume such things. Dean’s green eyes were wide open staring at the ceiling, purposefully avoiding the angel’s concerned gaze.

  
A small, almost sad smile appeared on Dean’s lips. “I don’t think I could sleep.”

  
Cas nodded. Then, remembering what he had been thinking about yesterday, but hadn't had the chance to do anything about it, commented unsurely, “We could do other things.”

  
The almost sad smile turned slightly into a smirk. “Thought you wanted to talk first.”

  
Blue eyes blinked, not comprehending, and then suddenly flushed. “No, I...I meant we could talk.” Because that was what they needed to do first. He needed to know that Dean was sure about himself, about them, and not just the Mark. Cas needed to know for certain that what he had gathered from Dean and Cain’s battle and heated conversation was leading to the correct assumption.

  
The smirk quickly disappeared to be replaced by a solemn look. Cas wanted to sigh. Of course Dean would want to back down from this, even now. The hunter hated talking far worse than entering a fight against a Knight of Hell.

  
“Cain had mentioned a woman….Collette while fighting against you,” Cas decided to start off. Best to start somewhere.   
“Yea, he’s mentioned her before.” Dean frowned. “How did you know about what he was talking about when we were fighting?”

  
“I was listening in.” Cas answered straightforwardly.

  
“Right, of course you were.” The snark was hard to hear, but it wasn’t necessarily angry, so Cas figured he’d be okay in the grand scheme of things.

  
When Dean didn’t seem ready to provide any information that he knew Cas wanted, Cas continued with his observation. “It was implied that when he was with her, the Mark had been quiet.” Dean nodded, but the tension had returned at full force by now. “And he also implied that you might see me as a...a something similar to what she was to him.” This time Dean didn't nod, but there was something in his eyes that let Cas know that he was listening and agreeing at least on some level. “So, I thought…”

  
“Yea,” Dean’s rough voice interrupted. A little bit stronger, “Yea. I know Cas.”

  
“So?”

  
“So, maybe. I guess.”

  
That wasn’t really an answer, but that was Dean’s style. What Cas did know was that Dean wasn’t offended by the idea. And, if green eyes were of any help, then Dean did on some level want Cas. He’d have to, if he understood and agreed that Cas meant the same to him as Collette had meant to Cain. So, knowing that Dean would not be the one to take the next step because of his anxiety towards sensitive subjects, Cas leaned in towards the hunter.

  
Soft lips pressed against the hunter’s neck. For the first second Dean was just as tense as before, but Cas kissed him again and was pleased to feel that tension slowly ease. The angel took it slowly, though as soon as he felt the hunter pliant beneath his lips he wanted nothing more than for this to be even more. For it felt like electricity, lightning striking at his lips where Dean’s touched his, and coursing through everything nerve in his body. It reminded him of the storms that he used to fly into, enjoying the fury of it all, the passion and the life. The same type of disastrous beauty that epitomized Dean.

  
But he needed to take this slow, at least for now. At least until the Mark needed him to be something more for his hunter. So, controlling his own emotions, Castiel pulled back, a safe but still intimate space between them.

  
A little lost at the sudden loss of touch, green eyes blinked away the daze.

  
“If I am to be this source of… calm in terms of where the Mark is concerned, I suppose that means I should stay here...by your side.” He said the words cautiously, not sure how far Dean was willing to take the idea of what all of this meant. How far did Dean truly think Cas could calm the darkness that was whirling inside him?

  
A hardness settled in quickly into Dean’s eyes, but it was just as quickly dissipated and a sense of coolness washed over him. “You’d stay?”

  
“If I am allowed?”

  
“Of course you’re allowed.” It was said with the same heat that Dean usually talked with when dealing with matters close to his heart. That heat cooled as doubt seemed to sneak in, as it often did with the man. “But only if you want to.”

  
“I want you to be well.” Castiel stated earnestly. “I want you to be free from the Mark. If that means that I stay here, then I shall stay here.” Though he wasn’t necessarily content with staying in one place for too long (and yes, the Winchesters did tend to stay too long in certain places for his taste), he would certainly be content by staying by Dean’s side.

  
“Right.” Dean’s gaze lowered so that Cas couldn’t even attempt to read the expression that was there. “Cool.” He stood. “Guess that means we need to set you up a room?” He started to make his way to the door.

  
“I thought it would be best to spend the time with you,” Cas explained with a head tilt before Dean could reach the door.   
Blood rushed to the hunter’s face. “You can come over when needed. But I think it would be best if you have your own room. That way Sam doesn’t get suspicious.”

  
Right. Because Sam couldn’t know. Cas should have known that. Trying to ignore the emotions that were beginning to tear at his insides, he tried to hold Dean back just a little longer. “I thought you were willing to rest today?”

  
“Yea. I will. Just let me eat, huh? I’ll be back.”

 


	33. Chapter 33

Dean did not immediately return. In fact, it was an entire day of Dean not returning. A part of Cas was worried about the extended absent, wondering if he had been too forwarded in these matters and made Dean react negatively because of something that had been said. Mostly, though, after too long of waiting for the hunter to come back to his room, Cas became irritated. It was just like the hunter to make things more complex than they were, taking something good and hopeful and twisting it around because of his own self-loathing. 

Because whatever was going on between them was hopeful. Sam had mentioned as such weeks earlier about how Dean seemed a little calmer when Cas was around. In addition, it was closely related to Cas' original plan of action - an outlet for adrenaline. However, instead of engaging in a fight (which Dean had profusely refused), adrenaline would be expressed by other means.... 

What the hell was Dean's problem? He himself had agreed that Cain might have had a point in comparing Cas to Collette in terms of his power to repress the Mark's effect. So wouldn't the hunter allow himself this hopeful thing? Why couldn't he accept that there might be a way out? 

Having had enough of waiting (it was getting close to the time the humans ate dinner), Cas stormed out of the room in search of the insufferable hunter. "Where is Dean?" Cas demanded upon finding only Sam at the dinning table, bowed over a book with a plate of scrambled eggs at his side. 

Sam looked up in surprise. "Uh, I thought he went back upstairs to his room."

Cas squinted his eyes. "How long ago did you last see him?"

"Breakfast. He poured himself a couple cups of coffee, grabbed a muffin, and then went up the stairs." Sam was sitting straighter now, guilt seeping in at the thought that something was wrong with his brother and he hadn't noticed. "He seemed better than usual, so I..."

"It is fine Sam. I am sure he is well. I will find him. Thank you."

Cas first checked upstairs, every room that wasn't his, only to find nothing. So Cas headed back down, passing the dining room promptly to take the direct path to the garage. 

And there was Dean, shirt discarded, leaning into one of the older cars' engines, his ass on clear view in tight jeans. Upon stepping across the doorway, Cas paused, his irritation suddenly dissipating. The sight was too aesthetically pleasing to keep his righteous fury. 

Seconds passed as Cas simply watched Dean go about his relaxing routine; the hunter seemingly unaware of the angel's presence. As Cas took in the view, his past irritation became more thoughtful, so that his anger wasn't able to rise again, but he wasn't going to move on and pretend that nothing had been discussed earlier. No matter how beautiful and calm Dean appeared now, that didn't mean Cas could let the issue go. It didn't mean he should allow Dean the chance to continue to run away from what could be a good thing. 

Slowly, not wanting to frighten Dean but also not wanting Dean to realize he was moving towards him and escaping at the last moment, Cas creeped upon the human. He then stood right behind the hunter, less than an inch away from. "Dean," he spoke gently, smoothly, but with the gravel that he knew instinctively that the hunter reacted well to. 

As expected, Dean's repose was a sudden jump, straightening himself to an extreme, his freckled expression flushed. "Cas! What the hell?"

"You did not return promptly as you promised."

Dean's green eyes shifted downwards, though he was determined to keep his chin up. "Sorry," he practically mumbled. "Had to cool down a little."

"You could have cooled down with me."

The flush on Dean's cheeks darkened. "I...it...Cas..."

This time Cas wasn't letting the hunter's discomfort to control the situation. The Mark on his arm was still mostly faded, and it was during this time, time before choice was taken out, that Cas had to make sure Dean understood. He moved even closer towards the hunter, so that Dean was backed into the car, clothed skin touching just skin. 

"Cas?"

"Hmm?"

"What are you doing?"

Cas thought about telling him, though he had figured Dean would have caught on by then, but then thought better of it. Words were what spooked the hunter; action was what got him to understand and to express. 

Not taking anymore time, Cas pressed his lips to Dean's, gently at first, but when it didn't seem to be enough, he put more force behind it. Dean froze at the initial contact, not escaping but also not responding. Before, this response would have discouraged Cas. Now, though, after their too short discussion, he knew this wasn't necessarily a sign of rejection, but something an entirely different.

So, Cas' response to Dean's lack of involvement wasn't his usual retreat, but rather with a grovelled growl and bringing his hands to grip the hunter's waist. Gracefully, and careful to not harm the hunter in the process, Cas quickly moved Dean away from the car and onto the garage floor. (It was a good thing Dean was such a neat freak so that even the garage was spotless). Dean's eye widened and his muscles tensed naturally, but he didn't fight against the power play.

Pleased with Dean's acceptance of the situation, Cas deftly straddled Dean's lower half and leaned against him to continue the fierce kiss. In this position, it didn't take long for Dean to start participating. As Cas pressed his groin against Dean's, his hands moving to grasp Dean's wrists and hold him down, Dean finally let out a guttural moan. The sound vibrated through Cas' mouth and he moaned in retaliation. Then everything became that much more intense. 

Dean began kissing back with just as much fervor as the angel had been putting into it.  
The Mark began to darken at the surge of adrenaline that was spiking, but it wasn't bleeding through his veins, so Dean was still in control of himself. Or at least as in control of himself as someone could be in his position. He was raising his hips in a steady rhythm, trying to create more delicious friction between them. Cas met him at the same speed, enjoying the way Dean was allowing himself to lost himself in the sensations.

"Oh, Cas," Dean was breathing hard. 

"Dean."

"Bed...bedroom." 

Cas didn't have to told twice. He quickly stood, pulling Dean along with him, and dragged the hunter through the bunker and towards his room. Fortunately, Sam was gone from the dining room, so Cas could freely pull Dean up the stairs and push him into his bedroom. 

The second they were inside and the door was locked, Cas went back to his state of domination. With a hand against Dean's chest, he pushed him scrawled out onto the bed. Dean fell without complaint, waiting wontonly for Cas to climb over him and press himself into him just like they had been in the garage. The hunter moaned and kissed passionately, but other than was simply following Cas' lead. 

Cas was enjoying this, and not just because Dean was allowing this to happen and they were being allowed to have their chance, but for so many other reasons. He liked the way Dean felt under him, his strong body molding beneath his tightened grips. He liked the control that Dean was willingly giving up to him. 

Overcome by desire, sensations, and the sense of power, Cas' hands began to travel across the hunter's chest with rough, inquisitive touches. Touches that were slowly making their way to the edges of his jeans. 

Dean practically whimpered at the teasing touches, encouraging Cas to move further. Deft fingers made quick work with the jean button, and then the zipper. He paused for a second afterwards, to make sure he wasn't about to cross some line, but Dean was past self-awareness. All the hunter seemed capable of was experiencing the pleasure that Cas was giving him, and that thought (to be the cause of Dean's loose control and pleased state) only made the angel harder. 

Upon feeling that hardness press roughly near sensitive areas, Dean gave out a sinful moan, which sent Cas completely over the edge. In a fever, he quickly rid the hunter of his jeans and of the offending boxers, leaving the perfect, sculpted body pliant, needy, and naked before him. It was glorious. Dean was glorious.

Only one mark upon the hunter's skin was flawed, and that was the Mark of Cain, pulsating steadily on his forearm, enjoying the adrenaline and arousal, but not taking it to the bloodlust extent. This would work, Cas thought briefly and out of focus. They could do this, and everything would be mostly back to normal.

"Cas..."Dean moaned needfully, "please."

Maybe a little bit better than normal, Cas corrected...at least in some aspects. 

Cas slowly began to unbutton his own jeans, internalizing the heated gaze upon him. This might not have been how he would have wanted their intimacy to begin, but they were here now, and Cas would take it. Cas would take Dean in whatever form he was willingly to give. Especially if it meant Dean could be saved from himself.

Gracefully, Cas descended upon Dean with a hunger he had never truly let himself feel until now. A hunger that he would satisfy with a passion, and would make sure Dean had the same kind of satisfaction as well.


End file.
